


Resurgence

by Fire_Droplet



Series: The Reflections Trilogy [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Songs of War - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Digital Art, Family, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minecraft, Songs of War, Trauma, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 60,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23759185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Droplet/pseuds/Fire_Droplet
Summary: One hundred and fifty years is a long time, long enough to almost forget the War. Yet, it is also long enough for the Voltaris to prepare behind the scenes, long enough for others to uncover old secrets... and long enough for a certain Sendaris to remember what he wished he could forget.
Series: The Reflections Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740556
Comments: 44
Kudos: 78





	1. The Waiting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/Content Warning: violence/gore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I’m writing a Songs of War fanfic! My thanks go to the series’ creator, David R. B., and everyone involved at Black Plasma Studios. It’s truly something to behold.  
> I will be updating this fic as I finish each chapter, so don’t expect a regular schedule. Fortunately, there shouldn’t be too long a wait between chapters, but that depends on a variety of factors.
> 
> Also, many thanks to my beta/helper, Ardhoniel.InfinGirl, for always listening to my ramblings and ideas. Her profile's here, she's got a really sweet fic, too:https://archiveofourown.org/users/infingirl/pseuds/infingirl
> 
> Lastly, all of these illustrations are available on my DeviantArt:  
> https://www.deviantart.com/fir3droplet/gallery/75038443/reflections-illustrations-sow-fanfic
> 
> Now, don’t let me keep you any longer. Enjoy!

* * *

_The path to paradise begins in hell._

_Dante Alighieri_

* * *

The day was dry, common in the late summer. High overhead, scant clouds offered no mercy from the sun’s heated glare. A light breeze whispered through grasses and leaves, spreading the scent of wildflowers. Seeking to escape the heat of the day, many Ardoni, young and old, took sanctuary in the pools riddling Sendaria. Laughter and conversation floated on the air.

The day was perfect.

The conditions were just right, it had been no accident. Every piece was poised to fall into place at precisely the right moment. A quick scrape of flint against steel kindled a shower of sparks that fell upon long, dry grasses waving their farewells in the wind. After that, it had been swift. The ravenous flames leapt from grass to bush to tree, striking panic into the Sendaris. Between it and the Voltaris, in a matter of hours, few of the blue Ardoni remained. Unfortunately, it was to be expected that some would live, as there were many of them and the red Ardoni couldn’t be everywhere. The flames, however, were but a beacon. An extravagant lure which doubled as a weapon, created precisely to draw in that final piece.

That final piece of the puzzle. The final hurdle to overcome, standing in the way of his plan. The plan that had been ready to be set into motion for quite some time, and preparations for it had been in the works far longer. He could be patient when time commanded it, however, at the moment, that patience was waning. The sun had begun to bleed into the horizon by the time his opponent had arrived. The final obstacle. Once he stepped over this, he would be free to set everything into motion.

Thronged by flames and claiming the high ground, he approached his opponent and delivered his little speech. In reality, Tygren scarcely listened to a word he said, instead, using this lull as an opportunity to size up his opponent. The champion had healed well from their last encounter, gripping his enchanted blade and poised to fight. Ringed by Voltaris, his opponent glared up at him defiantly, teal eyes narrowed.

That look in his eyes, so filled with determination, spoke of a warrior who would never put down his sword, never cease fighting so long as he could swing his arm. Even so, Tygren had not expected him to defeat two of his Voltaris with such apparent ease.

They had been expendable, but their deaths risked upsetting his plan.

That was unacceptable.

And so, Tygren leapt. Bringing his gleaming blade high above his head, the Voltaris landed nimbly and rolled on the hard-packed earth. In a fluid motion almost faster than the eye could follow, he was on his feet and slashing at his adversary. The blue Ardoni, the one whom he was so determined to end, blocked the rush of steel with his diamond blade, straining against it with gritted teeth.

Up close, he looked like the Nether, Tygren observed. The Sendaris had been worn down from fighting the other Voltaris, it showed in his ragged breathing and the subtle shake of his arms, the sweat beading on his brow. Using two different Songs in such a short span of time would be especially taxing on an Ardoni of his age. On top of that, dark shadows under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights. Yet despite all this, his movements never faltered. He remained an excellent warrior, blocking each of Tygren’s blurred strikes and stabs with impressive efficiency.

A surprise kick to his chest sent the Voltaris reeling backwards, instinctively digging his sword deep into the hard earth to slow himself. His features contorted into a menacing scowl. The champion had gotten the upper hand for a moment, only a moment, but a moment was all it took. And the blasted Sendaris could—by all rights, _should_ have ended it right then and there.

But no.

He didn’t.

And Tygren didn’t care why.

The champion had spared him, and then turned his back on his enemy, sprinting towards his horse.

He almost laughed. This idiot was supposed to be a champion, the best of all Ardoni warriors? No, not anymore. Not with such a rookie mistake painting a target on his back.

Tygren wrenched a spear from the nearby body of a Voltaris and, in his rage, blindly slung it with all the force he could muster.

A dull wet _thump_ was his reward, followed by a faint gasp. Ahead of the old man, the kid on the horse practically fell off of the animal, rendered mute in shock. The Sendaris crumpled to the ground, blood leaking over his hands. His eyes were wide, mouth open in shock as if he were so surprised that he had been run through when his back was turned. Like he expected that the Voltaris would have just _permitted_ him to escape unscathed.

Tygren leered, slowly drawing himself back to his full height as he stepped closer to the felled Ardoni. A few inches higher and the spear would have killed him instantly. But Tygren wanted him to suffer. This Ardoni’s hands were caked in the blood of Voltaris, but now, washed in the blood of his own. How fitting.

Tygren gripped the shaft of the spear and wrenched it out of his foe’s body, eliciting another pained gasp as more blood bubbled up. Brandishing it and pointing his sword at the other Ardoni, the Voltaris sneered, “What do you have to say now, _champion_? You will not stop what I am planning, Th–”

Their eyes locked, a look of mutual loathing binding their gazes together.

“I will not stop you, Tygren,” the champion growled, dark liquid seeping out between his teeth as he attempted to draw himself up, “not on this day. But there are— _cough_ —many days yet to come.”

Tygren’s sneer deepened and he drew back his sword. “Not for you, old man.”

The champion’s flickering markings glowed brightly, and he vanished in a flash of golden light. Tygren already raced forward before the other Ardoni had even appeared beside his horse. The Voltaris sprang into the air as the Sendaris struggled to stand, teetering on the edge of consciousness. The clanless Ardoni on the horse leaned over and latched onto the elder’s arm with white knuckles, quickly heaving him onto the animal’s back in a show of desperate strength. The chestnut stallion whinnied as Tygren closed in and, as if sensing the situation’s urgency, broke into a full gallop back towards the river with a thunder of hoofbeats.

Hm. So, he was still full of surprises.

Tygren landed hard and came up fast, grinding his teeth. For a moment, he debated whether to pursue them or not, but decided against it. He had no hope of catching up with them on foot. He should have killed that horse and child when he had the chance. Instead, he turned to face the other Voltaris, pointing his bloody spear at them. 

“Find the remaining Sendaris and bring them here. Alive.”

Tygren watched silently, brooding, as the pair on horseback slowly faded in a plume of dust in the hazy distance, the night swallowing them up. The final obstacle, while not removed, had temporarily been overcome. He would accept it as a small victory, but it would not be safe to begin his plans until that champion was defeated. The Nether could wait.

He could be patient a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 4/21/20: I've noticed that AO3 is having issues displaying my illustrations at times. If you're on mobile, they may look distorted, so, to fix this, just hold your finger on the image and open it in a new tab. If you're on a computer, I believe they should look fine as is. However, unfortunately, they might not show up at all at times. I'm working on fixing this.
> 
> EDIT 4/29/20: The images seem to be fine now... but we'll see if it lasts. Here's the link to my DA again: https://www.deviantart.com/fir3droplet/gallery/75038443/reflections-illustrations-sow-fanfic
> 
> EDIT 6/27/20: This fic has a cover now! About time XD
> 
> EDIT: 11/23/20: It's the first anniversary of Songs of War and I redid the illustration for this chapter!


	2. On the Road

He had waited for them to leave. Minutes passed. Slowly, he turned to sneak a look at the growing crowd of humans, and a glass bottle struck him in the face and shattered.

Unscathed, he forced a smile and waved. “Hello! I really don’t mean any trouble. It’s a nice bit of shade here, under this tree, and I thought I’d catch up on my reading.” He chuckled, but the townspeople only glared, jeering. One man on the edge of the crowd hefted a rock. Others clutched shovels and various farming implements with white knuckles. Seeing this, the Magnorite relented. “Not that I, you know, need any shade. There are plenty of other trees around, I’ll just go and find another one.”

“Get the Nether out of here!”

“Yeah, go back to the desert where you belong!”

Igneous shrugged and turned away, letting the open book in his lap fall closed with a gentle _thwap_. He then gathered up the rest and tucked them into his inventory. Turning from the way he’d come a few hours earlier, he waved to the mob one final time and started north, opposite the path.

“After all, there are some nice trees near Sendaria, and it’s such a beautiful day.” He remarked in his usual chipper tone as the mob behind him began to disperse. “Less people up there too, it’s bound to be quieter. And the Ardoni mostly keep to themselves, so I don’t think I’ll have any trouble.”

Oaks towered overhead, their leaves casting dappled shadows onto the Magnorite as he strode on, allowing his thoughts to wander. The early morning was a pleasant one, even though it was already quite dry. He wondered if the mild weather would hold, that would certainly be nice. Hopefully it would, if it rained, his books could get soggy. It had happened before. Even though the sky looked somewhat dark ahead, he wouldn’t worry about rain right now. No use fretting over things that might not even happen!

But… the sky _was_ getting darker up ahead, over Sendaria. They must be getting quite the storm, and with the dry weather of late, the land certainly needed it.

As he continued onwards, humming a cheery tune he had picked up a few towns ago, the sky continued to darken even though it was early in the morning. He was getting quite close to Sendaria and was already scouting out the perfect spot to nestle down into a book. He’d gotten to quite the interesting part in his latest read, _Chronicles of the Great War_ , jokingly nicknamed _War and Peas_ by its previous owner. Igneous shook his head, chuckling softly. No matter how much he read about them, he didn’t think he’d ever completely understand the human species.

The book had been surprisingly hard to come across, but he’d managed to barter with a trader in Oakendale for it. And he only had to do a month’s labor in his pea field to pay off the debt! He had even met some other Magnorites there, it was a shame that they hadn’t been too friendly. None of them had understood why he’d work so hard for just one book, but ever since he had first heard of it as a young child, he’d needed to get his hands on a copy. To the casual observer, it would appear as a dusty old history text, chronicling the events of a war long past. It was anything but. Well, it _did_ chronicle the events of the Great War, but it was no ordinary history textbook. It was an anthology of firsthand accounts from hundreds of survivors of the War, written as though from their perspectives. Its multiple authors had scoured Ardonia after the War ended, interviewing the survivors they could find, sometimes going to great lengths to do so. Even the great Aegus Nestoris, the only surviving master from the War, had obliged. It was an ongoing project to this day, he knew that some courageous scholars still sought to unearth the War’s remaining secrets.

His own copy was rather worn—the spine had snapped some time ago and many of its pages were torn and dog-eared—but it was his treasure. He had to have read it four times now, going on the fifth.

Igneous could only imagine the armies’ epic clashes. It was astounding how the whole of Ardonia had become involved in the War, ultimately defeating the Nether and Voltaris armies. Even the Magnorites had played a role, he knew that because some of his ancestors had fought in the War. Unlike the the other species, Magnorites were seldom mentioned in the book, but–

“Look out!” A voice exclaimed out of the blue, and Igneous’s eyes snapped open. He must have been daydreaming quite hard to have not noticed the horse bearing down on him. The Magnorite sprang out of the way not a moment too soon, eyes wide.

“Oh, be careful! You wouldn’t want to hurt your horse–” he got a better look at its rider and his yellow eyes widened. “An Ardoni! Oh, I had just been thinking about your species, what a coincidence. I’m a Magnorite, as you can see. Are you all right? You seem to have gotten quite the scare!”

The white Ardoni blinked a few times, seeming to gather himself. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Timber—my horse—is okay, too.” The horse nickered as though in agreement. “But my–”

“Oh, Timber! That’s a nice name. Hold on, have you been riding all night? You must be really tired! I mean, I wouldn’t know, because we Magnorites don’t need to sleep. Or eat, as a matter of fact! It sure comes in handy.”

The Ardoni paused at that, trying to process it. “I… guess so. I hadn’t noticed until now, I’m in a hurry. My–”

“Wait, we haven’t been introduced! My name’s Igneous, and you?” He gave the rather frazzled-looking Ardoni a broad smile.

“Senn. Nice to meet you, Igneous.”

The Magnorite nodded, “Same here, Senn. It’ll be great to have some company on the road, that is, if we can travel together? You see, I’ve been alone for a while and have had no one to talk to. Where are you headed?”

“I’m sorry, Igneous, but I can’t talk right now. Our village was just attacked, and my friend…”

It was then that Igneous noticed the other Ardoni on the horse, slumped behind Senn. His eyes widened and he took a step forward, hoping to get a better view. “Oh no, is he all right?”

“No!” Senn burst out, surprising Igneous. The Ardoni must have had a lot of pent-up negative emotions. “Our village was burned, and he was stabbed! We were attacked and almost didn’t escape.” The light went out of his eyes and he adopted a more subdued tone, “I’m not sure he’ll make it. I need to go look for survivors, but I can’t leave him or he’ll–he’ll die, too.”

The Magnorite sagged, “Oh, that’s terrible.” He suddenly perked up, “You know, I’ve been forced to travel my whole life! If you’re looking for a place to heal him, Biggerton is just down the road. It’s a short ride from here.”

Senn blinked, his youthful face filling with gratitude, clinging to a shred of hope. “Oh, thanks! But, there’s no room for you on Timber…”

Igneous waved him off. “That doesn’t matter, and besides, I can’t ride horses because I’m… too heavy. Made of rock and all that. But hey! Right now, ride southwest to Biggerton, just follow the path once you reach it!”

“Is there a healer there?”

The Magnorite scratched his head, “Now that you mention it, I do believe I remember seeing a sign for an apothecary when I was passing through the town. It may not be a healer, but it’s a start at the very least!”

Senn looked back at the unconscious Ardoni, biting his lip. “What if I can’t make it in time? He–he could–”

“Senn, it’s just down the road. The apothecary’s on the main street in Biggerton, right on the left as you come in if I remember right. There’s a big hanging sign out front. You’ll get there in no time!” Igneous paused for a moment, thinking. “And oh, I almost forgot! There’s a small town, well…” he leaned in, hiding his mouth with his hand, “it’s more like some scattered hovels than a town. Rather lacking in the educational department too, if I might add. It’s called Hogtown, and just go right past it. The people there aren’t too friendly to outsiders, you won’t find any help there. Biggerton’s not far beyond it.”

“Okay, but what about you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” Igneous smiled, “I’ll catch up with you. But you should hurry! And you know, if you have a Mobilium Song, you could get there even more quickly.”

He turned his steed around, “I wish I did. Thalleous does…” he gestured at his injured companion, “but I can’t take it from him. Thanks for the help, Igneous. I’ll see you later.”

Igneous waved. “See you soon, Senn!”

Timber began to trot off, giving the Magnorite a good view of the unconscious Ardoni on his back. He was Sendaris, but the pale blue hue of his many markings was sickly and dim, flickering. Slick blood smeared his hands, the wound concealed from view by a diamond greatsword that was affixed to his back. His body had slumped forward, long gray hair hiding his face from view.

Igneous, behind all his worry, couldn’t shake a feeling of familiarity, as if he’d seen this Sendaris or read about him somewhere. And that name. Thalleous. Could he really be…?

Suddenly, the colorless Ardoni turned around as if having an afterthought. “Igneous?”

“Senn?”

He paused. “You said you’ve traveled your whole life?”

“I have, but it wasn’t really by choice. You see, I’m only fourteen, but for Magnorites, by most standards I’m already halfway through my life! I’ve had to travel for most of it, except when I was really small, and—”

“Do you know where Ataraxia is?” The Ardoni asked breathlessly.

Igneous shook his head. “Nope, never heard of it. But I can help you look, once we get your friend back on his feet!”

“I’d appreciate that, Igneous.” With that, he steered Timber around and rode off, kicking up clods of dirt.

The Magnorite watched him leave, lost in his thoughts.

“Hm, I’ve never heard of a white Ardoni before. I wonder if it’s a birth defect? Oh, and I hope his friend will get better! I ought to go after them, can’t let myself be left too far behind!” Igneous chuckled to himself and started down towards the path, chasing after them at a swift pace he’d be able to maintain for a while.

With any luck, he wouldn’t have to. He needed to get to Biggerton quickly, they all did.


	3. Biggerton

The stallion loped onwards down the path as Biggerton steadily came into view. The white Ardoni recalled the first and last time he had been here, only a few nights ago. He and Thalleous had sat on their room’s deck at the inn that night, talking and stargazing idly. Now, they were closing in on the entrance and the prominent, familiar bell tower in the center of the town grew nearer with each hoofbeat.

But not quickly enough.

Senn spurred Timber on, urging him into a gallop, but the horse did the opposite. He neighed and slowed to a walk in the middle of the path, ears pulling back. The young Ardoni kicked his flank in frustration. “Come on, Timber, we have to get to Biggerton quickly!”

The chestnut horse ignored his rider’s commands, casting his gaze about. There were many bushes and trees lining the path, and the horse nervously eyed a large one a few paces ahead and to the left.

A man suddenly lunged out from said bush, causing Timber to rear up and sweep his hooves at him, whinnying loudly. Senn barely hung on, clinging to the horse’s muscular neck with stiff fingers, but his companion wasn’t so lucky. Thalleous slipped off and landed in a cloud of dust, unmoving.

“Give me the horse, now!” He barked, shoving Senn off of Timber. The young Ardoni landed beside Thalleous with a grunt. He scrambled up to his feet as the man—a bandit, it seemed—attempted to clamber up onto the horse. However, a large, strange-looking stone that was lashed to his back stopped him from doing this. To Senn, it was a mystery why he hadn’t simply untied it and taken the horse.

Without thinking, Senn snatched Thalleous’s luminous greatsword off his back and pointed it up at the black-clad thief, giving him his best glower. The second he gripped the hilt, it was as if a surge of energy had poured into him, brimming him with purpose. His colorless markings shone brighter, eyes flashing with a firm determination.

“That’s _my_ horse. Why are you trying to steal him from me in broad daylight?”

The green-eyed bandit blinked a couple times in surprise, but then a sneer split his face and he chuckled as he dropped from Timber’s side. His black armor gleamed menacingly in the bright sunlight. “None of your business, kid. Now, step aside.” His lip curled and he motioned for the Ardoni to get out of his way. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself on that blade.”

Senn was having none of it. “I’m not afraid to use this!” He jerked Thalleous’s blade at the red-haired bandit, but his arms were trembling.

“Heh, could’ve fooled me. Just get lost, you stupid Ardoni. I don’t have time for this.” In a fluid motion, the bandit drew out a long, curved knife. He twirled it a few times with expert skill. Senn wavered but stood his ground. “Not moving, huh? Are you going to use a Song on me? I’ll have you know, I already killed several of your kind last night.”

“Y-you did?”

The thief tossed his knife and caught it in a deft sweep of his other hand, tilting it so the sunlight flashed against the blade. “And I’m about to do it again.”

That was all the warning Senn got before the bandit sprang at him, blade flashing. The young Ardoni blocked his strike on the flat of Thalleous’s sword by pure chance, grimacing as a shock ran up his arms and a sharp _clang_ rang out. That human could hit surprisingly hard, he hadn’t expected their kind to be quite so strong.

The thief spun around and suddenly was behind Senn, slashing his upper arm before he could turn around. The Ardoni dropped the sword and cried out, clutching the wound. Blood began to seep past his fingers.

The bandit paused, the sneer on his face deepening into undiluted disdain. “Never been cut before, kid?”

Senn didn’t answer, reaching for the sword. Its diamond blade shone invitingly in the light, accented by the blue glow of the enchantment dancing along its length.

The thief advanced slowly while twirling his knife in tight circles, knowing he had the Ardoni at his mercy. “There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there.”

And an arrow sprouted from his shoulder. The thief gasped in the shock of the sudden pain and whirled around, having shifted his grip on the knife in an instant, ready to send it spinning through the air.

A familiar voice called out from the part of the path leading to Biggerton. “Senn! Wow, it’s a good thing we ran into you at the time we did! Well, Abbigail here is doing the shooting, but I’m along for the ride to offer moral support.”

“I-Igneous?” Senn panted, clutching his arm as the Magnorite came into view.

“That’s me! Would you care for some help?”

The thief began to look hesitant as he sized up the Magnorite and human girl–Abbigail, her name was–but was trying to hide it. “You again,” he growled.

“Yeah, me.” She had already nocked another arrow and drawn it back, aiming its sharp point directly at him. Her face was pinched in anger, giving every appearance of a warrior’s spirit, though she wore a farmer’s clothes. A worn, brown shawl draped over her shoulders on top of a plain gray shirt. Her tan, dusty pants were tucked into her sturdy and even dustier lace-up boots. The only unusual thing about the human was her hair, the way it changed from black at the roots to a violet unnatural for humans at the ends. At least, Senn hadn’t seen any other humans with violet hair. The dog beside her bared its teeth and let out a loud bark. “Leave the Ardoni alone and set the egg down.”

He smirked, shaking his head as he snapped off the arrow’s shaft that was stuck in his shoulder and tossed it into a bush. “No can do, girl. I need this egg more than a simple farm girl like yourself could understand.”

_It’s an egg?_ Senn wondered, but then supposed it made sense. The “stone” on the bandit’s back was of a rather egg-like shape, after all. _But from what animal?_

“I’m warning you,” she raised her bow, brown eyes pinning him in place as she stared down the length of her arrow.

“Fine. You win this time, girl.” Gritting his teeth as he moved his injured shoulder, the thief untied the egg from his back and lobbed it at her without warning.

“Hey! That wasn’t very thoughtful of y–” Igneous started to say, reaching out, but the egg hit the ground.

Or, it would have had it not disappeared in an explosion of violet particles and a flash of light. The three of them stared at the spot it had vanished with shock etched into their features, disbelieving.

“It… just vanished!” Abbigail was the first to exclaim. She whipped her gaze back up to where the thief stood—to find that he too had vanished. The only indication that he had been there were a couple drops of blood on the dusty path and footprints leading back the way Senn had come from.

“He escaped! Oh, pity.” Igneous frowned, shifting his attention back to the white Ardoni. “Are you all right, Senn?”

Senn lifted the hand from his shoulder, wincing a little. “He cut my shoulder, but it’s not too deep. I’ll be fine.” Timber ambled over to him, ruffling the young Ardoni’s hair with his muzzle and snorting. Senn chuckled, gently pushing him away. “I’m okay, Timber. Really.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” The Magnorite smiled. “Oh, and this is Abbigail. Abbigail, meet Senn.”

The human girl—a young woman by the look of it—waved with her free hand, returning her bow to its place on her back with the other. “Nice to meet you, Senn. This is Sam,” she smiled, picking her dog up. He gave a happy woof and licked her chin with a little pink tongue, tail wagging. She gave him a quick pat on the head and set him back down. “I’m sorry about that thief, I’ve been tracking him ever since I left my home. I don’t know what he wants with that ender dragon egg, but it’s nothing good. He stole it from Etherea.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Abbigail. I wish I could help you track him down, but I need to get my friend to a healer as soon as I can.” He motioned to the Sendaris on the ground, then remembered that his sword was lying in the dust a few paces away and retrieved it, affixing it to Thalleous’s back once again. “But if you have to follow him, I understand.”

“No,” She stated, already coming over with Igneous in tow. He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll help you. You look like you need it.”

“Thank you.” He sagged in relief.

She knelt down next to the Sendaris and looked him over, brow creased. “What happened? That thief didn’t do this before we arrived, did he?”

Senn shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Please, help me lift him onto Timber.” She obliged, grabbing him under his arms as the white Ardoni took his ankles. After chewing on his words, he opened his mouth again. “Our village in Sendaria was attacked last night.”

“Oh, I’m… sorry.” She didn’t seem to know what to say.

They got Thalleous back on Timber and Senn’s head drooped. “We had been traveling… and when we arrived back at Sendaria, it was on fire. Everything was burning.” He shuddered and mounted Timber, shielding his face from view. “I–I don’t want to relive it right now.”

“Well, you can’t alter the past, so it’s best not to dwell on it.” Igneous began, channeling his relentless optimism as they all trod down the path. “What’s important is moving forward and making the most of your current situation.”

“You’re right, Igneous. Let’s find that apothecary.”

* * *

They had passed through Biggerton’s entrance not much later, after setting Timber up in the stables just outside. Igneous had happily shouldered Thalleous, being the strongest out of the three of them, and they made their way down the town’s main street, attracting stares from townsfolk while searching for anything that read “apothecary.” Sunlight spilled down from the narrow gaps between the buildings, which were so close together, they nearly formed a solid wall. It was approaching noon, and Senn, with growing fear, was acutely aware of each passing minute.

The Magnorite stopped out front of a tavern, sighing. “I remember it was just on this road, but they all look so similar!”

“Are you sure you know where it is?” Senn asked, his brow furrowing. “We’ve walked this road three times now.”

“I–”

“Is something the matter?” A gruff voice spoke up, and the three turned towards the sound. A tanned guard strode towards the small group, his hand not far from the short sword hanging from his belt. “I hope you’re not here to stir up trouble.”

“Oh, sir, we were just looking for the apothecary in town, we’re not from around here.” Abbigail piped up, keeping Sam behind her.

He relaxed. “I can tell. In that case, you’re in luck. He moved his shop just up the street.”

“Thank you, sir!” Senn exclaimed, turning in that direction. “If you’ll excuse us, we need to–”

The guard took hold of the Ardoni’s forearm. “Ah, wait. What business do you four have with the apothecary anyway?”

“My village was attacked last night,” Senn chewed the inside of his cheek, gesturing to Thalleous. “He and I are the only survivors that I know of… and if he doesn’t get to a healer soon, then he might not make it.”

The guard let go of Senn’s arm and rocked back on his heels, letting out a low whistle. “Sounds like a real problem. The apothecary won’t be much help with that, I’m sorry to say. But there’s a healer here who works out of her home, Elaine. Thanks to that, it’s difficult to know about her if you ain’t from here. She lives just down there,” he jerked a thumb at an offshooting road not far away, looking Thalleous up and down. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

“Thank you, sir, your information’s been very helpful!” Igneous grinned at him, hefting the unconscious Sendaris.

The guard nodded. “Not a problem. Keep an eye out for yourselves so long as you’re in town, some people don’t take too kindly to outsiders.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Senn nodded back, and ushered Igneous onward.

The four of them broke into a run, feet slapping against the stone road as they dodged the townspeople walking here and there. A few shot them dirty looks, others grumbled and complained just loud enough for them to hear. They paid them no mind, reaching her front step in no time and rapped at the worn spruce door. Senn bounced on the balls of his feet, biting his lip in anticipation.

It cracked open and the dark face of a middle-aged woman peeked back at them. “Yes?” She asked in a soft voice.

“We were told a healer… Elaine… lives here.” Senn said between pants, trying to catch his breath. “My friend—he needs help. We were attacked.”

The door opened wide, revealing a dark-skinned woman with long, frizzy hair, weighted down by a shop’s worth of jewelry, but she wore a kind smile. “Well, let’s not waste any time, then. Come on in, don’t be shy.” She beckoned them inside and they hurried over the threshold, the door almost closing on Sam’s tail.

The three of them plus Sam stood there somewhat awkwardly as the woman hurried over to a chest against the other wall, leaning over to rummage through it. Senn cast his gaze around, taking in his new surroundings. Not counting Sulliman’s mansion, he had never been in any human’s dwelling before, and drank in the sight with curious eyes. The ground floor of her residence was a single rectangular room—albeit a large one. On the left side was a well-furnished kitchen that stretched from wall to wall. A fire danced in a cobblestone hearth in the leftmost corner, farthest from the door, cheerily popping and spitting the occasional ember. Senn turned his gaze from it, his stomach doing a slow roll at the unpleasant reminder of the prior night’s events.

Shafts of sunlight filtered in through the single window which looked out to the street, stretching languidly over the single bed in the room and illuminating motes of dust. Its periwinkle sheets were folded with care, undisturbed and ready for use.

Abbigail coughed, waving some dust away from her face. “You… are Elaine, right?”

The woman glanced up, “Oh, yes! I apologize for not introducing myself, though I suppose it won’t be necessary now. You seem to already know who I am.” She mumbled something to herself, gathering up a few bowls, rags, and a couple empty glass bottles from the chest before allowing its lid to fall shut with a heavy slam. “Though I don’t know who you are, would you mind introducing yourselves?”

“My name’s Abbigail, and this is Sam.” He yipped at the sound of his name and she smiled.

“I’m Igneous! Pleased to meet you!”

“The pleasure is mine, Igneous.” Her eyes twinkled.

“And I’m Senn.” The colorless Ardoni finished. “My friend… his name is Thalleous Sendaris. Please, you need to help him. He was stabbed last night–”

“Well, don’t just stand there, lay him down on the bed in the corner. I keep it there for my wards–excuse me, did you say _Thalleous Sendaris_? The Ardoni champion from the Great War is in my house!?”

“Yes! Please, can this wait until later?” begged Senn.

“I knew it!” Igneous exclaimed under his breath, hurrying the Sendaris over to the bed and gently set him down. The Magnorite removed his greatsword from his back and placed it on the ground, leaning the weapon up against the wooden bed frame. He then laid Thalleous down on his back, careful not to exacerbate his injury.

“Yes, yes, I’m terribly sorry.” She dropped the rags in a pot of boiling water that had formerly been ready to steep, then uncorked the bottles and filled them with different liquids from a cauldron beside the hearth. The first held a fizzy, deep red liquid only a few shades lighter than blood. The second held a pink liquid that had an oily sheen to it. “It just came as a shock. Now,” she dried her hands on a towel and made her way to the bed, shaking the pink substance as she did so while precariously balancing the rags and other bottled substance in the bowls in her other arm. She knelt down on the floor beside his bed, beginning to set her supplies down. “what is his condition, and how long has he been in this state?”

Senn ran a hand through his hair. “Since around midnight last night, I think—that was when my village was attacked and he was stabbed with a spear.”

She gasped, almost spilling everything in her arms. “Oh, you poor thing!”

Senn looked away.

“Here, Healer Elaine, let me help you with those.” Abbigail knelt down beside her and relieved the woman of the remaining bowls in her arms.

“Thank you, young lady.” Elaine rubbed her hands together and cracked her knuckles, nearly popping one of her rings off in the process. She then grabbed one of the bowls that was filled with water and doused a rag, then wrung it out. The healer leaned over Thalleous’s chest, inspecting his injury with a trained eye. Some of his long hair was plastered to the wound along with a layer of dust from the road, all sticky with dried blood. His breathing came fast and shallow and his markings were incredibly dim, hovering just on the edge of blackness. The Ardoni’s expression, however, was peaceful. His eyes were closed, lips parted gently as if he were merely asleep.

Looks can be deceiving.

“Champion or not, I can scarcely believe he’s hung on this long, especially at his age. He’s quite ancient for an Ardoni, is he not?” Elaine sighed, brushing some of his hair away. She brought her rag to the area around his wound, gently probing it before beginning to scrub it clean of dirt and blood.

Senn thought about it for a few seconds. “I’ve never really asked him, but he lived through the War. When I was younger, he used to tell me tales of what it had been like.”

Abbigail sat back on her knees, preparing another rag for the healer. “I grew up far from any town without much knowledge of the outside world. It was just me, Sam, and Mr. Finch—my neighbor. He raised me, after my parents died. I never learned much about the Great War.” Sam nuzzled her knee and she ran her fingers through his thick, fluffy coat.

“I’m sure he’ll be able to tell you all about it when he wakes up.” Igneous gave her a reassuring smile.

She returned the gesture, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah.”

Silence.

“He’s… going to be all right, won’t he?”

Elaine sighed. “I’m doing all I can, but at the moment, it’s too soon to tell. Now, you three must be worn out from your journey. How about you get some rest, there are beds upstairs. First door on your right. I can handle this from here.” She set the now-filthy rag aside and grabbed the clean one Abbigail had wet down, going back to her scrubbing in clear dismissal.

“Oh, that’s very generous of you!” Igneous beamed, taking Abbigail’s arm and steering her towards the stairs. He would have pointed out that Magnorites don’t require rest, but he held his tongue and ascended the stairs behind Abbigail. Though he might not be around people too often, he knew when to take a hint. Senn, however, didn’t budge from the seat he had taken on the floor’s planks beside the bed. He fingered the diamond blade grimly.

“What’s eating at you, Senn?” The healer inquired after a long, unbroken moment. “Apart from the obvious, that is.”

He tilted his head to stare up at the cracked paint on the ceiling, curved horns scraping against the wall he leaned upon. “We might be the only ones that survived the attack,” he mumbled. “I didn’t see any other survivors through all the smoke. Everything just… happened so quickly.”

The healer tossed the second dirty rag aside and snatched up a clean one out of the bowl, pouring a generous amount of the red potion over it. She then held the rag above his now-clean stab wound and twisted it, allowing droplets to fall freely into the opening. They hissed and gurgled unpleasantly, and Senn had to keep from hissing himself at the sounds. But the Sendaris’s markings began to glow a bit brighter, and the angry red of the wound appeared to fade ever so slightly.

“That’s not hurting him, is it?” He dared to ask after having gotten over his initial alarm.

“Oh, this? You’ve never seen a potion before, have you, Senn?” Her eyebrow raised as she wet the rag down from the pink bottle and repeated her previous action. Fortunately, this time, much less bubbling and hissing was involved.

“Can’t say I have. What does it do?”

“The red one is a potion of healing, the pink is regeneration. I picked them up from the apothecary down the street a few days ago, and it’s a sure good thing I did! He and I get along quite well, we help keep each others’ businesses afloat, after all! These potions combined will expedite the healing process. Under normal circumstances, I would only use them sparingly if I had to at all—these two are quite potent, and hard to come by. But, he needs it if he’s going to make it through this.”

“Thank you, Elaine, for helping him. It… means a lot.” Senn gave her a weary smile.

“I’m doing what I can, but know that his chances are not as good as I’d hope for them to be.”

Just like that, the room seemed to darken. Even the sunlight streaming in through the window by Thalleous’s bedside seemed to acquire an icy tinge to it.

“I… understand.” The young Ardoni murmured numbly.

She faced him, putting a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Go grab a bandage from that chest I dug through earlier, they’re on the left side next to some herbs. Wrap your shoulder and get some sleep, you look like you haven’t had a good rest in days.”

He made no comment and proceeded to do as she asked with stiff, jerky movements, casting glances at Thalleous every once in a while before mounting the stairs. The young Ardoni entered the room on the right and flopped down onto the free bed—Igneous must have left it for him and pulled the curtains, he’d have to thank him later—and felt the weight of the past twenty-four hours crash down on him all at once.

Senn clung to his pillow as if it were his anchor to the world and didn’t try to stop the tears that came like a sudden storm, crying himself to exhaustion until he slipped into a dreamless sleep.


	4. A World of Fire

Ria Sendaris had run. Her feet pounded divots into the earth as she flew over it, kicking up dust and ash, her iron spear clutched tightly in hand. She had not forgotten that her father had ordered her to flee, but neither was she about to stand idly by—or worse yet, cower and hide as her people were massacred by the Voltaris.

She didn’t care about her “responsibilities” to her clan, as Osivian had called them. Her throat burned and her eyes watered from the thick smoke, but she pressed on, unhindered, under the cover of darkness and smog. When the fire had started hours ago, she, alongside everyone else, had initially believed it was a typical brushfire, relatively common on dry days such as this. The young Sendaris had immediately begun helping Osivian, to his chagrin, in his attempts to rally together Ardoni to evacuate the women and children and put out the flames.

Then the Voltaris descended and everything had fallen into chaos.

Ria had watched in helpless shock and horror as Sendaris were slain left and right. She had attempted to save those she could, but it seemed for each one she saved, two more perished. A blow to the head. A stab through the chest. A slash to the throat. A kick into the hungry blaze. The sweeps of blades and dancing flames became her world, a world of fire and carnage and–

pure

unbridled

 _rage_.

She dug her heels in and came to a sudden stop, long hair whipping around her as she fell to her knees and stabbed the butt of her spear into the soft ground. The Sendaris hungrily gasped for air as sweat trickled down her chin, clenching her fists so tightly that her nails cut into her palms. The scene of her father’s death repeated again and again in her mind, the agony washing over her a relentless, unforgiving tide that swallowed all thought in its path.

And yet, there was one twisted thing that refused to give in, a gnarled handhold in the rushing waters.

It wasn’t hope.

It wasn’t anger.

It wasn’t hate or a thirst for revenge.

It was the memory of a smile. A smile that cut through hundreds of yards of smoke, ash, and desolated land to reach her, to tell her one thing:

_I won, and there’s nothing you can do._

That twisted smile never faltered as Osivian’s body crumpled to the ground in the distance, charred and bloody, his markings darker than the inky sky above. Only the glowing reds of flames and Voltaris markings remained after that, branding themselves forever into her mind.

And she watched it happen again.

And again.

And again.

For the longest time, nothing moved but flames and ash, black snowflakes drifting purposelessly on the air. But then a footstep crunched on some charcoal behind her and she was on her feet in a heartbeat, spear at the ready. Instead, her head met the pommel of a sword, then the ground. Her vision exploded in bright bursts of light and embers of color.

“It’s a shame,” a throaty voice rose and fell on the hellish breeze as the world began to fade around her, “I’m not merciful enough to kill you.”

And Ria Sendaris knew no more.

* * *

King Chronos had waited. He had been patient. Patient enough that his fingers had dug into the armrests of his nether brick throne, the liquid fire in his veins coursing with agitation. His black armor seemed to entrap all light, creating a pool of darkness around him that gave off waves of heat. A nearby wither floated close, hungry and intrigued. Too close. He seized its center head and shoved it away as if it were a troublesome pet.

A familiar Voltaris came into view, ascending the maroon stairs at the other end of the nether brick walkway over bubbling magma. He was followed not long after by others of his clan, making their way towards the titan’s throne.

King Chronos sat up straighter, staring the deputy of the red Ardoni dead in the eyes. The guardsmen at the foot of his throne slammed the hafts of their weapons against the bricks and an echoing _boom_ reverberated through the floor. The group of Voltaris knelt, bowing their heads to the Lord of the Nether. Yet their deputy did no such thing, meeting his smoldering gaze unflinchingly as his companions returned to their feet.

“Tygren Voltaris. Why did you return here?” His voice echoed and overlapped as if two people were speaking at once, thrumming the very air with authority.

The Ardoni gestured behind himself at his companions, not to be intimidated. “We Voltaris have incited the other four Ardoni clans, per your request. A village from each now lies in ashes, we are a step closer to obtaining the Prime Songs.”

Chronos let out a deep, grating chuckle that went on for several moments, his dual-toned voice booming even though he spoke at a regular volume. “I see. Yet, how many steps will it take to gain possession of them?”

Tygren’s eyes narrowed slightly. “As many as are necessary. The champion hid them well.”

The titan leaned back on his throne, “What of this champion, the one you were so eager to destroy? He means little to me.”

Tygren’s expression gained a smug edge. “I dealt him a mortal wound in battle. I doubt he will survive.”

“So he remains alive.” His ember-like eyes examined the Voltaris standing before him, as if inspecting an insect.

“I intend to see that that does not remain the case.” His lip curled. “You should know that.”

“He has been a thorn in your side for quite some time now, has he not?”

“That is irrelevant.” The Voltaris deputy shook his head, horns glinting in the bloody light. “The fact remains that the Prime Songs have been moved. Thalleous Sendaris hid them well, yet not well enough. It is only a matter of time until we retrieve them.”

“See to it that you do, approach me again only then.” The king sat back in an evident gesture of dismissal.

“Chronos.”

The Netheran’s head swiveled to face the Voltaris yet again, expression blank behind his helmet.

Tygren waved six Voltaris forward, each bearing a bound, unconscious member of the Sendaris clan. They halted just behind him. “Take them to holding cells, but keep them alive.”

The king scrutinized his face, bemused. “And why might you expect me to abide by your command, Voltaris? You hold no authority over me.”

The deputy stared at him for several drawn-out seconds, as if lending him the opportunity to figure it out for himself. After receiving no response, he let out a slow breath. “At present, I lack the infrastructure to detain them myself. You do not.”

Chronos leaned forward on his throne, gripping its armrests. “Then it seems you should not have taken them in the first place.”

The deep voice of the Voltaris grated against the hot air, “That is moot, now.”

The Lord of the Nether let out another low chuckle, but this time, it was filled with disdain. “You come to me with promises you may not be capable of keeping and Ardoni I have no use for. Return them to Ardonia, this meeting no longer serves any purpose.”

Tygren’s head tilted, his smile thinning. “They will be invaluable bargaining pieces, now that the Ardoni are on the brink of another war. That _is_ what you wished for, is it not? Or perhaps, you would prefer to allow past misdeeds to remain unpunished.”

King Chronos stood from his throne, molten eyes simmering. With a sweep of his arm, he commanded the present guards to take the Sendaris prisoners from the Voltaris, away to the depths of the fortress where they could be held indefinitely. After transferring custody of the prisoners, they dipped their heads in a bow and strode off, armored boots echoing sharply against the nether brick until their sound melted away entirely.

“Was that so difficult?” The red Ardoni sneered.

Chronos was in front of him in an instant, the tip of his fiery sword pressing into Tygren’s chest. “Test me, and your circumstances will indeed become very difficult. Time may flow more slowly in the Nether than in the lands above, but that does not mean we Netherans are slow-witted.”

The Voltaris’s sneer deepened and Aggressium energy crackled around him, itching to be used. “Noted.”

The king took a step away, maintaining eye contact as he replaced his sword on his back. “Get out of my sight,” he rumbled in his two-toned voice, vibrating the Ardoni’s chest cavity.

Tygren turned, beckoning his company of Voltaris alongside him. With swift strides, they all disappeared down the stairs from which they had come, footfalls fading away into the reddish haze and eternal drone of the Nether.

Chronos returned to his throne and leaned back upon it, retrieving the Mobilium Prime Song from his inventory and examined its contained infinity stretching out in all directions. The gentle yellow glow it emitted was swallowed up by the darkness of his helmet.

His eyes flicked upwards as a new form approached from the sanguine mist. “What do you think, Ingressus?”


	5. The Golden Hour

The Ardoni’s eyes cracked open, squinting into the harsh sunlight which spilled through the narrow gap between the drawn curtains. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes, wondering why he didn’t feel more cheery—

Oh.

He blinked. In an instant, Senn had disentangled himself from the tan sheets and staggered to the door, throwing it open. He flew down the stairs, startling Elaine, who stood over a kettle in her kitchen and jumped when the young Ardoni burst into the main room.

“Are you all right, Senn?” She asked quickly, brow creasing in concern.

He took a moment to answer, gazing down at the unconscious Sendaris and gathered himself. Thalleous did appear to be in a marginally better state, but perhaps it was only due to the fact that he was now clean and bandaged. He looked so small, even though his feet dangled off the edge of the bed.

Senn released a small sigh and took a seat on the side of his bed, running his fingers through his mussed hair in a vain attempt to make it behave. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

Her expression relaxed somewhat. “Did you have a good rest, then?”

He nodded absently, looking around for a clock. “Uh, what time is it?”

“Oh, it’s only the morning. You slept for the rest of the afternoon and the whole night!” Igneous stated matter-of-factly from where he sat beside Abbigail and Sam, looking up from the dog to wave a rocky hand. “And don’t worry! You, ah, didn’t miss anything important.”

“As a matter of fact, I was about to rouse you.” Elaine said, dropping tea leaves into the kettle. “I’ll be heading out to restock my potion supplies and run some other errands shortly. I used the rest of my stores on your friend.” She shook her head, a wry smile twisting her lips. “I can still scarcely believe that the one and only Thalleous Sendaris is in my home. Would you care for some tea?”

“Oh, we Magnorites don’t need to eat. It’s pretty convenient, when you–”

“Igneous?”

“Oh, were you talking to Senn? My mistake, you see, I’ve gone so long without having anyone to talk to, just animals, but those conversations are pretty one-sided–”

“Igneous.”

“Right! I apologize, Elaine, go ahead.” He beckoned somewhat sheepishly. She smiled, dark eyes sparkling as she shook her head.

Senn tried to remember her question. “Yeah—yeah, I’ll take some tea, thanks.”

“You’re most welcome.” She poured him a mug and he could smell it even before the healer brought it over to him.

“How is your shoulder?” Abbigail asked.

Amid all the emotional turmoil, the Ardoni had completely forgotten about his injury. He peeled up the corner of the wrapping with two fingers, seeing the bleeding had stopped some time ago. It throbbed dully, but he could handle it.

He shrugged, “It’s all right.”

“From what I could see of it last night, your shoulder should heal without a hitch.” Elaine added. “But despite that, I’d like to take a look at it.”

“Okay.” Senn obliged, and pulled the wrappings off entirely, letting them drop to the floor.

The healer studied it for a moment, jewelry clinking together as she leaned closer and fingered the edges of the incision. Senn held in a wince.

“What clan do you belong to, Senn?”

“Excuse me?” He blinked, caught off-guard. “Oh, I–I’m clanless. About my shoulder…”

Elaine straightened back up, fixing him with an odd look. “It’s neither dirty nor deep. As long as you keep it covered, it will heal just fine. You’re lucky.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” The white Ardoni was relieved to not have another problem added to his plate, but the condition of the Sendaris still needled him. “How is he doing?”

The healer’s expression fell slightly. “I won’t say that his condition isn’t dire, yet, he does appear to be slowly—albeit shakily—recovering.”

Senn’s head dropped into his hands and he let out a heavy sigh, feeling as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders and heart.

“Will he wake soon?” He dared ask. The three of them all leaned in slightly to be certain they wouldn’t miss her answer.

Elaine collected a few empty glass bottles and stuffed them into a leather satchel, snapping it closed with a sense of finality. “I can’t say,” she began measuredly, pushing a strand of dark curly hair out of her eyes. “he is ancient, yet his body is strong as if he were decades younger. I… would prefer not to guess.”

“I understand,” Senn said, but his ears drooped a fraction.

“Now,” she said with a brisk air, pulling on a pair of freshly-shined gray boots, “I believe it will be best for you three—four, including Sam—to remain here for the time being. Though I cannot forbid you from going out, if you intend to, I insist that one of you _must_ remain with Thalleous in the case that he wakes.”

Senn perked up. She made that sound like it was a likely outcome, and for that, he felt hope beginning to flare in his chest with a renewed strength.

“Of course we will, ma’am.” Abbigail assured her with a warm smile.

“That’s good to hear. I’m not certain how long I will be gone, but if you begin to feel hungry, there’s some bread and apples in the far cabinet. It’s to the right of the hearth.” Elaine pushed the door open and waved farewell.

“Thank you!” Igneous and Senn called out in unison.

“Your tea’s probably cold by now, Senn.” Abbigail pointed out as the door closed, her eyes falling to the mug he had set on the floor.

“You’re right…” the Ardoni trailed off. He grabbed his mug and brought it to his lips, taking a sip.

Though the wispy curls of steam should have been an indicator, he hadn’t expected it to still be scalding and spilled a fair amount of it on the floor as he sputtered at the heat and bitter taste.

“Be careful!” Igneous cautioned a little too late.

Sam was on the puddle in an instant, lapping up the hot drink as if he’d been dehydrated for days.

“Oh, Sam,” Abbigail chuckled, shaking her head at the sight. Senn stood and went over to the kitchen, setting his mug on the tabletop next to a small basin of water which served as a sink. He grabbed a towel and returned to the bedside, kneeling on the floor as he began to mop up what was left of the mess.

“So, Senn,” Igneous began, scooting his chair closer to Thalleous’s bedside where the colorless Ardoni had sat, “what are you going to do once you reach… Ataraxia, is it?”

“Yeah,” Senn stood and hung the towel on the side of the basin of water, staring down at his reflection.

In a span of a day, he had aged years.

He turned away, looking to his rocky companion. “I don’t actually know what we’re going to do once we get there.”

The Magnorite wore a look of confusion. “Then… what are your reasons for going there at all?”

Senn went back over and took a seat back on the bedside, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It was Thalleous’s plan, all he said was that we would be safer there. I wish I knew more.”

“Safer from the people who attacked you two days ago?” The young woman questioned.

“The Voltaris.” The Ardoni uttered, a frown shadowing his features. “They burned our village to ashes.”

“The Voltaris?!” Igneous exclaimed. “But they vanished over a century ago!”

“And now they’ve returned,” the colorless Ardoni sagged. “Thalleous is convinced that it will be the beginning of another Great War.”

Both their eyes widened. “That–that would be terrible, right?” Abbigail breathed, gathering Sam up into her arms.

Senn rocked back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “From what I saw, the clans aren’t ready to face the Voltaris again.”

“Oh, look on the bright side, Senn!” Igneous chirped. “There’s no evidence that the Nether is involved this time, which is good news for us. As a matter of fact, your village may have been the only one attacked.”

The Ardoni shook his head. “That’s possible, but–”

“Oh! That just reminded me. Abbigail, why were you tracking that no-good thief?” Igneous pouted.

She allowed the subject to change, giving Senn a needed breather even though she wasn’t one to enjoy being put on the spot. “He stole that dragon egg from Etherea, and somehow, I found it in the woods near my home.”

“He just had left it there?”

“I’m not so sure… but I took it home with me and Sam. A guard came by later, asking about two thieves who had been seen in the area.”

The Magnorite was confused. “Wait a minute, I thought it was just the one?” 

“The thief had a companion—not a human. He had glowing blue eyes, wore armor, wielded an electric scythe, and made sounds like this–” she attempted to gurgle some saliva in her throat, only succeeding in making a scratchy warble.

Senn and Igneous chuckled, the former of which appeared to be raising in spirits, if only slightly.

The woman waved her unsuccessful attempt off, chortling. “It turns out they had been there all along. After the guard left, they came and attacked me and my neighbor, knocking me out and stealing the egg again.”

“Oh, that’s rather quite unfortunate. At least you’re all right, Abby!” Igneous smiled.

She returned the gesture, but it didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “I guess so. I know I should be out there, on his trail, but–”

“It’s all right if you want to go,” Senn interjected, indicating the door with a duck of his head, “we can handle this.”

“Thanks,” she said, “but it won’t make a difference now. He’ll be too far gone.”

“That’s a shame.” The Magnorite let out a gentle sigh. “But, at least you get to stay here with us!”

Abbigail nodded, letting silence stretch on for a few moments before opening her mouth again. “Igneous, what’s it been like to travel your whole life?”

“Well for starters, I can’t say that I’ve been traveling my _whole_ life, only ever since I was little. I’ve always wanted to visit as much of Ardonia as I can in my short life, there’s so much to see! But for a Magnorite who was born outside of K’arthen, it’s tough! But, if you can’t change your current situation, you just have to make the best of it!”

“Words to live by,” Abbigail agreed. Senn didn’t appear to be listening. “You know, since you’ve traveled so much, have you ever been to Ataraxia?”

He shook his head. “I’d never even heard of the place until I met Senn. It must be quite difficult to locate.”

“Oh, I might be able to find it on my map...” the woman murmured, reaching behind her into her inventory. She was stopped as Sam suddenly scrambled out of her arms, sniffing at Thalleous’s hand. “Oh–Sam, back.” She ordered, sticking a hand out to block him. He let out a low whine, bumping her palm with his nose. “You could hurt him…” She trailed off as a soft moan drifted up from the bed, its sheets rustling as its occupant shifted.

Senn jolted to his feet, relief etched into his face. “Thalleous?!”

The eyes of the wounded Ardoni fluttered open, azure irises hazy and dim. Those eyes squinted, blearily trying to focus on the colorless Ardoni standing over him.

“... Senn…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been waiting to write this since I started this story, haha. For those who may be confused about the title, the “golden hour” is the time of day after sunrise and before sunset when the sunlight is a rosy gold, roughly an hour in length.  
> As always, thank you for reading!


	6. Oblivion

For an unknown time, there was nothing. No colors or sensations, no thoughts, feelings, not even simple blackness. It was pure oblivion. Had he been aware, he would have wanted to linger there forever, to take sanctuary in the empty void. The void promised no pain, no suffering, no trials, no torment, with no strings attached. There was no fear or anguish, no joy or relief. It was simply nothing, and that in itself was bliss.

But he could not feel, for he did not exist. The nothingness was an ocean, slowly coaxing him deeper with each lap of the dark waves over his face. He could not wish to be swept away into the liberating black hole, but would have if he could. Yet, as he slipped under the waves, the tide reversed and the event horizon receded. The nothingness which had previously swallowed him remained, though, instead of a sea that pulled him under, it took the form of a thick fog.

Sensations moved like shadowy shapes in the murk, present yet just out of sight, easily boiled down to imagination. Soft sounds that may have been words, the feeling of air, of slow movements nearby.

Eventually, the feelings grew in strength, approaching him, even reaching out to touch him as his sense of self grew. A particularly wet one bumped his hand, surprise and confusion gripping him. Yet stronger than these emotions was an oppressive fatigue weighing down every muscle in his body, and he could scarcely react to any stimuli. As the fog sluggishly dispersed, pain flooded in like a firestorm and burned the rest of it away.

Those sounds—voices—dissolved into the mist as he shifted. His breaths hitched and a weak moan escaped his lips, a far cry from the agony that was his chest.

He heard his name, as if from down a lengthy passageway. It echoed and faded in his head, reluctantly sinking in after several heartbeats.

That voice was very familiar. With no small effort, he opened his eyes and could make out an indistinct figure standing over him, made of soft grays and whites.

“... Senn…?”

Two more figures appeared on either side of the one in the center. The one on Senn’s left spoke up next, and didn’t stop. “Thalleous, you’re awake! Oh, I am so glad! How are you feeling? Does your chest hurt? Elaine—she’s the healer who saved you—left not long ago. I can go find her, if you–”

The third figure shushed him as Thalleous let out a heavy sigh, allowing his eyes to slip shut before they could focus completely. The sudden bombardment of words did not help how he was feeling, in fact, through the haze in his mind he could feel the dull throb of a headache coming on.

A wooden plank creaked in the silence and he opened his eyes. His vision was still fuzzy, but had greatly improved from how it had been moments ago. The clanless Ardoni’s face hung over his, worry and relief mixing to create an odd expression. Or perhaps it was something else entirely, but the Sendaris lacked the energy to put more effort into his observation.

Despite this, he took stock of his surroundings. He laid on his back on a soft bed with thin, pale blue sheets drawn up to his waist. When he shifted, they were rather scratchy. Gilded rays of sunlight lanced across the bed through gaps in the curtains of the window on his left, illuminating motes of dust suspended in the air. He could make out distant conversations outside the glass, but his headache was not improving so he stopped trying to listen. Inside, Senn had leaned back from him. He wore a rumpled wrap around his shoulder that needed to be changed soon. The Sendaris felt a sudden stab of anger directed at whomever had caused him such an injury, even though it did not appear to be serious. Beside the young Ardoni was a human girl with black hair that turned purple at the ends, clad in drab farmer’s garb. A fluffy gray dog beside her sniffed at Thalleous’s hand, licking his fingers with a coarse tongue.

What truly caught his attention was the Magnorite, there was no mistaking his species. He was the one that had spoken earlier, by the look of it, yet did not appear hostile. Nonetheless, the blue Ardoni was wary. Thalleous was becoming increasingly aware of his present condition, which, in short, was not good at all. The pain in his chest varied in intensity, spiking whenever he moved even the slightest amount. An occasional chill shot down his spine, tempting him to pull the sheets higher. Gauzes and other dressings wrapped around his own chest, concealing the wound he knew to be there.

Though, his memory of what had caused it was fuzzy. He did not recall what circumstances had led him here, nor had any inkling of where “here” was.

“Thalleous…?” Senn asked again, softer this time.

Through the headache and haze of his thoughts, the Sendaris gradually came to realize that he had not spoken after uttering the other’s name, likely worrying him. He internally chided himself and brought his eyes up to the young Ardoni, attempting to project a look of alertness. “I am here, Senn. Though… I am not certain… of where… of where ‘here’ is.” He sank into the bed at that, feeling more drained than ever. Just that little bit of speaking had sapped at his strength, and he felt his eyes growing heavy… everything was growing soft and dim… the pillow under his head was quite comfortable, even the pain in his chest was slipping away...

“Thalleous!” A voice all but shouted and he found himself being gently shaken on his right shoulder. Pain zapped his chest, but it was dull, diluted with fatigue.

His eyes fluttered back open, their teal light faint. “That… is my name…” he all but slurred, trying to focus on the blurry figure casting a shadow over him.

The clanless Ardoni looked up at the others, saying something that Thalleous couldn’t entirely make out. It was about going to find someone by the name of Elaine… oh, how he wished to return to his slumber, he had not slept properly in ages.

He had not even noticed that his eyes had slid closed once again until he felt a soft tapping on the side of his face.

“The healer’s coming, Thalleous, just hang on a little longer…” Senn trailed off, his face the picture of worry and fear.

“H–healer?” The Sendaris managed to ask after prying his eyes open and once again, meeting his gaze.

The worry on Senn’s features abated somewhat with the knowledge that the wounded Ardoni was lucid enough to be listening. “Her name is Elaine. She’s been tending to you since yesterday—that’s when we brought you here. This is her home.”

He gave a small nod to show his understanding. “And where… where might we be…?”

The face of the other Ardoni fell. “I just told you, we are in her house–”

“The town.”

“Oh—oh. We’re in Biggerton.”

Thalleous nodded again. “Wh… what caused–”

The door to the house flew open with a _bang!_ Senn jumped, then relaxed as a human entered, a woman with dark skin, wearing what had to be pounds of jewelry. Presumably, she was Elaine, the healer. As she dropped her bag and hurried to Thalleous’s bed, she was followed by the two others from earlier, the girl and the Magnorite.

“I’m surprised that you woke so soon,” she said breathlessly, moving the three chairs next to the bed out of the way.

“He nearly passed out twice since then,” Senn pointed out.

“My apologies,” the blue Ardoni offered shakily, giving them all a reassuring look, “I’m… feeling a bit… under the weather.”

The healer laughed, but there was no mirth to it. “How are you really feeling, Ky’Thalleous Sendaris?” She motioned for the girl and Magnorite to go fetch something for her, and they vanished from view.

He paused, taking a deep breath and grimaced as the small action sent lightning bolts zigzagging through his chest. “As if I had… been stabbed.”

Senn folded his arms uncomfortably as the room slowly began to revolve on a tilted axis, “You were, by Ty–”

Suddenly, the blue Ardoni coughed and white hot pain jolted through him, flecks of blood flying from his mouth.

“The spinning… please, cease it…” he mumbled as the room blackened around the edges. A small part of the Sendaris took note of how that was odd, as sunlight had been raining in seconds ago.

“Thall…” a voice floated by faintly, “quickly… bandages… los…”

“… is…?”

He watched through the descending fog as figures rushed about in a hurry, talking sharply amongst themselves, though the haze blunted the words’ edges. The sounds blended together into meaningless eddies that washed over him, and he was swept back into the solace of the void.

* * *

One moment, the wounded Ardoni had been talking to them, holding conversation, albeit wearily. The next, he had coughed up blood and his markings had dimmed as crimson seeped into the cloth bandage binding his torso. His eyes grew glassy as his entire body slackened, murmuring something unintelligible.

“Oh no,” Elaine hissed. “Thalleous? Thalleous!” She cursed under her breath when she received no response from the fading Sendaris. The healer looked to the other three, “Quickly, Abbigail, go grab some bandages and gauze from that chest. He’s losing blood. Igneous, get the red potion I picked up today from my satchel. Oh, and Senn, please fetch my smelling salts, they are over in the cupboard, adjacent the cauldron.”

She immediately set to work, cutting his bandages off as the trio rushed to fetch said items, bringing them back to her with all haste.

The wound was not pretty. Thalleous had been run through, a couple inches higher and an artery would have been impaled, or worse, his heart. Either would have killed him on the spot. Elaine had stitched the opening closed the best she could the day before, but it had been wide and blood could still leak out. Hence the extensive bandages.

She cleaned and wrapped it, being certain to tie the bandage tightly around his middle to keep pressure on it. Once her work there was finished, she took a step back and let out a slow breath. “It’s infected.”

Senn felt his stomach drop to his feet and he rested a hand upon the elder Ardoni’s forehead, loose strands of gray hair plastered to his clammy yet hot skin. Senn looked to the healer, “He’s burning up.”

Igneous offered up a potion of healing, the potent red liquid sloshing and frothing behind the glass. “Here, take this.”

She blinked and grabbed it, shaking herself. “Thank you. Senn, do you have the salts?”

He held them up.

“Good, now–”

“Why can’t you just pour the potion into the wound like last time?” Abbigail asked.

The healer turned to face her, “These are not splash potions. They are meant to be ingested, I only poured them on him last time because even with the salts, he was too weak to wake. It was my only option.” She shook her head regretfully. “If I’d had but a pinch of gunpowder, I could have turned them into splash potions myself.”

Abbigail offered her a consoling smile that looked rather forced. “How can I help?”

“Just keep Sam out of the way, please.” Elaine ran a hand through her frizzy hair.

The young woman beckoned her dog away but kept an eye on the others, scratching behind his ears.

They all watched with bated breath as Senn waved the smelling salts under the unconscious Ardoni’s nose, back and forth. It took a few repetitions before the Sendaris stirred, letting out a pained groan and clenching his jaw and fists. The colorless Ardoni lowered the salts and let out a relieved huff as the Sendaris’s azure eyes cracked open once again.

“Thalleous…?” He asked tentatively. Blue irises wordlessly drifted over, hazier than before but meeting his eyes nonetheless. “You need to drink this,” he motioned to Elaine, who raised the potion.

He only blinked slowly.

She set it at the foot of the bed, biting her lip. “Come, we need to get him to sit up.”

Senn blinked. “O–okay.”

“How may I help?” Igneous questioned from right behind Senn, startling the young Ardoni.

The healer shot a glance back at him as she moved the champion’s diamond greatsword out of the way, “I think it would be best for you to sit this one out, Igneous. Whatever the reason, Thalleous doesn’t seem to trust you.”

And she was right. He would only look at the Magnorite out of the corners of his eyes, a small scowl on his face. Igneous sighed and turned away.

“I hope I’ll be able to talk through things with him once he’s healed.” He said, taking a seat beside Sam on the floor and pulling a worn book from his inventory, well out of the way. Visible tension left the Sendaris’s frame.

Elaine slowly helped Thalleous sit up, easing him back against the worn wooden headboard. By that time, his breathing was fast and shallow and the normal gray of his face had changed to an even more ashen tone, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Are… are we ready?” he asked between pants, the anguish having roused him as he felt his wound stretch.

“Are you?” she returned, gripping the cork of the bottle.

Without hesitation, he nodded jerkily. She popped the cork out and gingerly passed the bottle to him, but upon discovering that he could hardly lift his arms, helped guide it to his mouth.

He downed its entire contents with impressive speed for how bitter and sharp the roiling potion was. His eyes closed, a small smile finding its way onto his face and he let out a breath full of relief.

“Thank you, Elaine.” The Ardoni’s voice had gained back most of its usual richness. A gracious smile pulled at his lips as he wiped his chin, looking up at her with clearer eyes. Yet, a closer look revealed that they were still somewhat clouded by fever and exhaustion. “I do not know how I will repay you for your kindness.”

“Do it by surviving,” she quipped, “which starts by lying back down and resting. You should know that you are in no shape to be making conversation.”

Thalleous gave a slow shake of his head. “You are too kind, however, I will see to it that your trouble has been paid in full by the end of this. You have my word.”

She snorted, “Please. You have given me very little trouble at all, Ky’Thalleous. Keep your promises for other things.”

“I will not allow a debt to remain unpaid, Elaine.”

“Then you can make yourself useful and allow me to change your bedding.”

He obliged, lacing his fingers over his abdomen as he laid back down.

She swept the outer sheets off his bed in a single billowy motion, snapping them against the floor. The healer wadded them up under her arm and dropped them off in a corner of the room to be taken care of later.

A shiver ran down his frame.

Wordlessly, Senn climbed the stairs and entered the guest room he had slept in last night. He opened the small closet beside the large windows which overlooked the street below. Sure enough, a stack of folded blankets was piled on a low shelf. He grabbed the thickest, softest one he could find and took it back downstairs.

The white Ardoni let the thick beige blanket fall open and draped it over Thalleous, taking a seat on his bedside. “Thank you…” The Sendaris said softly, the tiredness from earlier having crept back into his voice.

“You’re welcome.” He paused. “Thalleous?”

“What… is it, Senn?” The blue Ardoni’s curiosity sounded genuine.

Senn scratched the back of his head, unsure of whether he should continue at all. “I have a question, but I can ask it later, I suppose.”

Elaine took the reins, “I think it would be best to hold onto that for now. Talk will only wear him out further. Would any of you care for something to eat?”

It was then that Senn realized he hadn’t eaten anything that day or the last, and his stomach let loose a roar. Abbigail chuckled as he gladly accepted some bread and cheese, as well as a glass of water. It was all gone within minutes.

Abbigail took a single apple for herself and some pork for Sam. Igneous, being a Magnorite, didn’t need to eat.

“And what about you, Thalleous?” The healer cast a glance up at him from arranging her medical supplies.

For a moment, Senn thought he had fallen asleep, but then he spoke. “I do not have much of an appetite, but I thank you for your offer.”

The white Ardoni realized that in addition to himself, the Sendaris had also not eaten anything in the past day.

Elaine seemed to share his thoughts. “I insist. It is vital that you regain some strength.” The woman ordered. “Now, what would you like? Bread?”

“I would like… to rest,” he trailed off, allowing the dam that had been keeping his exhaustion at bay to give way. His eyes fell closed and he was out like a doused torch.

* * *

“May I see it?” Abbigail asked, leaning closer to better see in the fading light.

“Sure!” Igneous tugged _Chronicles of the Great War_ out of his inventory and passed it to her. “And so, he said, ‘Working in a pea field for a whole _month_ to get a raggedy textbook is just a waste of time!’ But I told him–”

A knock rapped on the door.

“Excuse me,” Elaine stood from her chair and went over to open it, coming face-to-face with a red-haired man.

“I was told that a healer lives here,” he said, clutching the back of his shoulder. Abbigail and Igneous both started at the sound of his voice.

“That is true…” she answered, looking him up and down with suspicion.

“Elaine, that’s him!” Abbigail exclaimed, and Sam barked from her side. “He’s the thief who attacked us!”

Senn snapped out of a doze at the shout, falling out of his chair at Thalleous’s bedside. “Ow—what?!”

The bandit jeered disbelievingly as he caught sight of the woman. “You _again_? How much bad luck can a guy have in one day?”

She shot to her feet, racing for her bow as he clubbed Elaine and drew the long, curved knife from his belt. “I wouldn’t,” he growled, giving it a quick twirl and putting the point of the blade to the healer’s throat as she stared up at him in shock from the ground, “she seems like a nice lady, after all. I’d feel bad for spilling something on her floor.”

“Release her!” Abbigail hissed, but then noticed the vacancy on his back. “Where is the egg?”

His face split into a sly grin, green eyes glittering. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”


	7. Secrets and Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For the “full experience,” listen to “So Small” by Thomas Bergersen)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NEpNZJJDPZE

_ Helplessly silent, he stood beside his brother in a white landscape under the light of the swollen moon, low in the sky. Like tears, its silvery light dripped through the thickening clouds, illuminating scattered flurries that dusted their hair. The wind spoke of tranquil solitude as it whispered over the mountains’ heights and explored their crevasses’ depths. Somewhere, water splashed against rock and echoed away to nothing. The air smelled of ice and stone, the scent of winter. _

_ The soft powder was cold on their feet, crunching as one of them shifted his weight. On a different night, they would have been roughhousing and hurling snowballs at each other before their mother called them to bed. _

_ Tonight, they watched as steel cut through flesh and air far below. While drawing her staff, their mother had ordered them to run as far as they could. They had turned tail and fled as fast as their little feet could carry them, kicking up puffs of snow. Everything was a blur. One of the twins had tripped and fallen, but the other quickly helped him back to his feet and they were off again. _

_ The second Voltaris had started after them, but the one who appeared to be the leader blocked her with his spear. “There are more pressing matters at hand.” _

_ The boys’ father whipped out an iron battle-axe, deftly tossing and catching it. “My sons will spread the word of your defeat.” He growled in a rich voice, his curved horns glinting in the silvery light. _

_ The Voltaris shook his head slowly, a derisive smirk curling his lips. “We will see about that, won’t we?” _

_ The family stared the other red Ardoni down. “Can you not allow us to leave in peace?” The mother twirled her staff before slamming the haft of it into the white powder. By this time, the youngest boys had scrambled up the edge of a short cliff, watching from afar. Snow showered down from under their feet and they quickly backed away from the edge, never once lifting their fearful gazes from the impending conflict below. _

_ The leader sneered as he swept his gaze around. “We cannot. Your very existence sickens me, traitors.” _

_ Their father straightened up, scarlet markings glittering and rippling. “Your kind are the traitors, traitors to all the clans with your use of dangerous, forbidden magic.” With no warning, crimson bolts of energy shot from his battle-axe, striking the ground and vanishing at the leader’s feet. _

_ “You missed,” the Voltaris sneered, twirling his spear in a deadly arc as he circled the small group. The adults glowered, keeping their older children behind them, ready to fight should the need arise. _

_ “Did I?” _

_ Large red spikes erupted from the ground, impaling the leader in multiple places. High above, the young Ardoni clung to his brother, whimpering as he buried his face into his shoulder. _

_ “Shh, it’s over…” Thalleous ran a tiny hand through his twin’s hair. “Mom and Dad are okay, as are–” _

_ His hand dropped as ten more Voltaris materialized out of the shadows, their weapons already drawn and glinting hungrily in the moonlight. All eleven of them closed in on the group of four below, who had backed closer to each other to form a tighter circle. _

_ His eldest brother found himself trapped in a pulsating swarm of green energy, raised up into the air. The female Voltaris on the ground had raised her fist and plunged downwards, sending him hurtling to the snow and ice below. In a burst of yellow light, his father teleported and slammed into him, sending them both crashing into a snowbank, unharmed. The nearest Voltaris leapt down to them off of a shelf of ice, slashing a blade of Aggressium from his sword at the pair. High above, Galleous let out a sharp gasp as he peeked at the violence unfolding below. His father grabbed his older brother and teleported out of the way of the blade just in time, landing them on their rears in the deepening drifts. _

_ “It’s not over!” Galleous exclaimed, quivering as they scrambled to their feet. “I don’t wanna watch!” _

_ “You don’t have to,” Thalleous said, biting his lip as he shielded his brother from the view without breaking his own gaze. _

_ Their older sister threw up a Protisium wall in front of their mother, shielding her from an enemy’s underhanded swipe. _

_ “What are you hoping to gain by fleeing?” A younger Voltaris stepped forward, jerking his sword at them. “Even if you were to escape, no clan will accept you for what you are!” _

_ Their mother stepped forward and her daughter warily dropped the shield, allowing her to advance. She approached him, twirling her staff as green light seethed down its length. Her tone was soft like the snow she trod upon and just as cold. “And whose fault is that? This clan can keep its dark history, but my family will have no part in it, hear me!” _

_ Her adversary clenched his fist and darkness gathered around it, shot through with white lights. He opened his palm and soul sand trickled through his fingers. “This ‘forbidden magic,’ as he called it, is worth more than its price. It can perform feats that many only dream of, such as… glimpsing what is to come.” A smile cracked his scarred face, only to be replaced by a furious glare a moment later. “There is hope for our clan, yet, you  _ dare _ to stand in its way! Our way!” The blackness around his fist grew and his irises paled to a milky white as his voice deepened, almost reverberating. “A Voltaris Champion will one day rise above the rest, persistent to no end, on the tides of a War the likes of which Ardonia has never seen.” He paused as if having an epiphany, then slowly, methodically raised his gaze to the exact spot where Thalleous sat, high above and supposedly out of sight. “No matter what you do in the present, you cannot change the course of fate, traitor.” The depths of his eyes flared crimson. _

_ A shiver ran down the child’s spine and his brother squeezed his hand. _

_ “I am not one of you,” their mother hissed, raising her staff as she pointed behind her at her family. “They are not one of you.  _ He _ is not one of you, and never will be!” _

_ “Mom, look out!” Thalleous screamed, but his voice was snatched away on the roaring gale. The darkness flew from the Voltaris’s hand to her staff and then up her arm, turning her gray flesh black. _

_ She gasped and staggered, dropping her staff. Her hand groped weakly at her heart as she began to wither away, collapsing into the snow. A single green Song coalesced beside her, sinking into the white as it gained form. Verdant bubbles formed and burst inside of it, existing as long as mist in the breeze. _

_ Thalleous couldn’t think. Someone was screaming. He was on his feet in an instant, but just as quickly, Galleous was on top of him. He tackled his twin and pinned him down, keeping him in the snow as he wailed and lashed out. “Let GO OF ME!” he screamed, clawing at his twin. “I have to help–I have to help them! CAN’T YOU HEAR ME, BROTHER?!  _ LET ME GO! THEY’RE—THEY–” his voice splintered and he coughed, spitting snow from his mouth.

_ “YOU CAN’T HELP THEM!” Galleous shouted in his face, startling his twin rather badly. He eased up, seeing tears pricking at the corners of his brother’s eyes even though he could already feel them running down his own cheeks. “They… they’re good fighters. They’ll be okay, Thally! They have to be!” _

_ “That… that monster called us all traitors…” he sniveled, trying to wipe at his eyes without looking like he was doing so. Galleous said nothing as he got off his twin, making sure that he wasn’t about to bolt. “A-and he–he–” his brother doubled over, hiccupping as he was wracked with sobs and his voice grew shrill. “He–he–huh–huh–huh–” The young Ardoni gasped for air, digging his feet and fists into the soft snow. A wordless wail escaped his lips, shattering the night. _

_ A faint blue showed through the thickening storm whipping through the air, illuminating shadowy figures. A bright flash of yellow appeared and vanished just as quickly. Yet, neither laid eyes on any of it, locked in a shivering embrace with their faces pinched, tears streaming down their cheeks and falling onto the snow below. The wind lamented with them, screaming and crying as it whooshed past, shielding the two from view. _

_ After a time, they had dared to turn their heads back to the battle below. The pair were squinting now, straining to see through the growing gusts by the time they had noticed the change in weather. The snow had picked up from scattered flurries to what could be approximated as a blizzard. Soon, even the clashes of steel and the glows of markings and Songs had vanished altogether, erased into the white. The battle faded from existence. _

_ The two young Ardoni sat there for a while, shivering and clinging to each other as they hung on to shreds of hope and let their grief flow freely, fearing the worst but not daring to go down just yet. Time slogged by, feeling like hours had passed. At the end of his patience, Thalleous stood, snow from his hair falling into his eyes. His twin hadn’t budged, so he tried to heave him up by his arm. _

_ “Ugh–come onnnn, Gally, we h-have to go see if they–if they’re alright!” Thalleous hiccupped, feeling his eyes begin to well up once again. _

_ “It might not be safe yet!” His brother protested, snatching his arm away as he wiped at his nose with a shaky hand. “I wanna see them too, but we have  _ got _ to be careful!” _

_ “Fine, then I’m… uh… I’m leaving without you!” Thalleous spat through blurred vision, then spun on his heel and tromped off into the blizzard. _

_ Galleous sat there in shock as his twin vanished, waiting for him to come back. But as minutes ticked by, he became more and more convinced that his brother had been serious. _

_ Something inside him snapped and he scrambled to his feet, chasing after what remained of his twin’s tracks in the deepening snow. _

_ “Thalleous, wait for meee–!” He shouted, slogging and slipping down the slope through the deep snow. It went up past his knees, and suddenly, the ground vanished out from under him. Galleous yelped but was cut off as he landed hard on something soft. He groaned, though it came out as a whimper. Getting to his feet, he figured that he would have some bruises later, but nothing too serious. He’d fallen into a drift of snow at the base of the slope, but there were a bunch of them so it wasn’t exactly lucky. _

_ Everything was white, he realized. The snow, the blizzard, but worst of all, his sibling’s markings and his own. They weren’t old enough yet to be Inducted into a clan, after all. He was going to have quite the time finding his brother in all this. _

_ “T-Thally?” he called out, cupping his hands to his mouth as he cast his gaze about. “Thalleous?” _

_ “Over here!” A familiar voice wafted through the blizzard. _

_ Galleous looked around, squinting. “Where?!” _

_ A cry on the wind was the only response he received, warbling faintly off to his left. He scrambled to his feet, chasing the remnants of the sound and shielding his eyes from the storm. _

_ “Thalleous!” He shouted again. _

_ His heart began to hammer as the seconds trickled by, receiving no response. Galleous blindly ran towards where he thought the wail had come from, and his foot caught on something. He face-planted into the snow, gasping and shivering. Quickly, he got to his feet and turned to see what had— _

_ It was a Supporium Song. _

_ What remained of his mother’s body was not far from it. He could make out the back of his brother as he knelt in the snow not far past her, shoulders slumped and shaking. Slowly, Galleous took her Song and approached him, fumbling and eventually tucking it into his inventory with unsteady hands. _

_ “Thalleous…?” _

_ His twin gave no indication of hearing him. He continued his approach, only to be struck with the sight that fixated his brother a moment later. His father’s body lay prone, half-buried by snow. His older sister and brother were in a similar state not much farther away, all of their markings black. _

_ The only color in this monochrome world was a single Mobilium Song, lying innocently in front of Thalleous as its insides pulsed and spun. _

_ With weak knees, he sank down beside his brother and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into his shoulder. Neither said anything. They were just there, clinging to the knowledge that they hadn’t lost each other. _

_ Snow crunched behind them. Gasping, Galleous whirled around, his eyes falling onto the Voltaris that had slain his mother. He stared down at the child, sheathing his sword at his side as blood dripped from his knuckles. _

_ “I did not need to see the future to tell that you two would return for these.” _

_ “I won’t give you Dad’s Song!” Thalleous hissed, now clutching the yellow cube between his tiny fingers. “You’ll–you’ll have to kill me to get it!” _

_ Galleous’s eyes widened, but the Voltaris only laughed. “You have a fire inside you, child. If I had wanted you dead, rest assured, you would be. Subdue them.” At his final words, several more Voltaris strode into view, closing in on the pair. _

_ “Go AWAY!” Thalleous screamed, squeezing the Song so tightly that it shattered into a burst of energy and golden fragments in his hands. His white markings grew in intensity, becoming brighter and brighter– _

_ He vanished in a hum and streak of light. _

_ His brother gasped and whipped his gaze around, finding Thalleous in the snow a short distance away, gaping at his palms as if they had fallen from the heavens. He locked eyes with Galleous, who was already on his feet, dashing towards him as if fleeing the Nether itself. _

_ A blue barrier materialized in front of him without warning and he slammed into it, just missing his brother. _

_ “No!” The twins shouted in unison. Thalleous bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth as he tried to draw upon the power of the Song, but it was as if it had never existed. Galleous pounded on the shield–the realization that it was his sister’s brought fresh tears to his eyes—but it held fast. _

_ Something cold pressed against the small of Galleous’s back. Cold and sharp. _

_ “Now, Thalleous, was it?” The voice of the Voltaris came from behind him, and the tip of the blade pressed deeper into Galleous’s back. He flinched and fidgeted, trying to worm away. “Listen carefully, child. I’m sure you love your brother more than that Song. I will lower this shield, and you are going to hand me that Mobilium.” He paused, and what little color had been in Thalleous’s face drained away. “Unless you don’t care for him as much as it seems.” The tip of the sword drew blood and Galleous gasped, feeling himself beginning to quake with fear as his mind blanked. _

_ “Just g-give him the Song, Thally!” Galleous squeaked in pain. “P-please!” _

_ His brother’s fists clenched, “I can’t!” he shrieked in a wave of panic. “I broke it and now it’s gone! I–I–” he panted, “You can’t kill him! P-please–” _

_ He vanished again in a bright flash of light. _

_ “Wh–” the pressure of the blade vanished as the Voltaris wheeled around, finding Thalleous in an instant. Galleous saw the opportunity to escape and bolted, sprinting towards his brother. _

_ “Run, Thally!” he yelled and grabbed his twin’s arm, pulling him away. _

_ Thalleous seemed to snap out of a trance and clumsily ran after his twin, short gray hair whipping across his face in the blizzard. “It… it hurts!” He panted, stumbling. Galleous heaved him forward and together, they took off blindly into the white. A handful of Voltaris kept pace with them for a stint, but the two children had the advantage of white markings in the snowstorm and were running on pure adrenaline, terror, and grief. _

_ The pair’s breaths came in shallow puffs, visible against the freezing air as their feet scourged into the deep snow, legs pumping to the rhythm of their frenetic hearts. They only slowed as they began to run uphill, chests heaving for oxygen in the thin air. _

_ “Here... safe… place... rest…” Galleous doubled over with his hands on his knees. _

_ “Yeah…” Thalleous wiped his eyes, panting. They had stopped out in front of the yawning mouth of a cave, one which faced away from where they had come. With any luck, the Voltaris wouldn’t spot it. He tugged his brother through its mouth and the pair were immediately swallowed by darkness. The soft, snowy glow of their markings lit the cavern well enough to make the sharp tips of icy stalactites glisten overhead, the rest of them receding up into the darkness. The raw, icy winds that had keened outside were replaced by freezing drafts which echoed in strange ways down branching, invisible tunnels. Disturbing sounds punctuated the almost-silence ever so often, a faint moan here, soft rattling there. The two young Ardoni dared not venture deeper into the cave’s gloom. _

_ “If we… stay here…” Thalleous slumped back against the cool, ragged wall of the cave near the entrance, “we can… w-wait out the storm.” _

_ Galleous collapsed beside him and wrapped his arms around his brother, shivering. “I-I’m so cold, Th-Thally.” _

_ Thalleous shivered as well, nestling into the embrace. “Me t-too.” _

_ “W–what if they find us?” _

_ He sniffed and wiped at his runny nose. He didn’t want to think about that. “We… uh, w-we’ll escape into the t-tunnels.” _

_ “I d-d-don’t like that idea.” Galleous cuddled closer and closed his eyes, trying to block out the world with his brother’s side. _

_ Thalleous gave his brother a weary, brittle smile and let out a quiet sigh as a shiver ran down his frame. His cheeks felt wet once again. “Gally?” _

_ “Mmm… yeah?'' The other Ardoni’s voice was thick with tiredness. _

_ Thalleous squeezed his middle again, “W-We’ll always h-have each other, right?” _

_ Galleous wiped at his eyes, “Yeah.” _

_ “I-I love you.” Thalleous pulled his brother closer so their hearts were touching and gave him a warm squeeze, trying to dispel the cold seeping through their skin and settling in their bones. _

_ “I love you t-too, Thally.” _

_ Slowly, he nodded off like that, succumbing to his tiredness and the frigid temperatures. Thalleous kept chewing the inside of his cheek to stay awake, keeping watch on the cave’s mouth. Beneath his weighty fatigue, terror and grief electrified his very being. _

_ Their hiding place was far from perfect. His family… what had happened to the rest of his family could happen to him, to Galleous. _

_ He whimpered and buried his face into his brother’s downy hair. _

* * *

_ “Careful up here, the snow is getting rather deep.” The Ardoni’s cerulean markings illuminated flakes that clotted the air as he trudged onwards. The gale-force winds pelted them with snow and whipped his hair into his face, so much so that he had long since given up trying to push it away. _

_ His companion squinted through the blizzard and raised her lantern. “Caecilius, look. The tracks lead to a cave.” _

_ He followed her gaze and sure enough, a dark maw was barely visible through the snowstorm. _

_ Caecilius turned his gaze up to the black opening. “Then perhaps these Voltaris we have been tracking are still in there. Come quickly, Claria, but be cautious. Their tracks are fading and the snow is deep here.” He drew a well-oiled bow from his inventory and nocked an arrow, letting the fletching run between his fingers. _

_ “Personally,” the other Sendaris began as she waded through the tall drifts after him, keeping her lantern held high, “I wonder what reason they had to pursue their foes through this storm.” _

_ “It doesn’t matter now. Judging by the remnants of that battle,” he said darkly, “I would say that they caught whomever they were after.” _

_ “Be silent, the cave entrance is just ahead,” Claria murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. She lifted the lid of her lantern and with a quick puff, extinguished the wavering flame inside. Caecilius raised his bow and soundlessly drew the arrow back. _

_ He turned and pointed the arrow into the darkness of the cavern, sweeping it about as he looked for the source of the tracks they had followed. _

_ The Sendaris hadn’t expected to find two clanless children curled up and clinging to one another, dusted with snowflakes that had blown in. He dropped his bow and rushed over to kneel beside them with Claria at his heels, checking that they were breathing by holding his hand in front of their mouths. Small puffs of white met his gray skin, and Caecilius let out a relieved huff. It would have been a tragedy to lose two Ardoni like them, too young to have even been Inducted into the clan of their family. Their horns were just nubs. Yet, the pair’s skin was worryingly cold and their matching markings had lost their luster. Frozen tears were stuck to their cheeks and frost coated their eyelashes. _

_ “They are fortunate that we found them when we did.” _

_ “How will we take them back to Sendaria with us?” Claria looked at him. _

_ He shook one of the child’s shoulders gently in reply. “Wake, little one. It is not your time yet.” _

_ Slowly, his eyes opened as slits, revealing pure-white irises. The child blinked and seemed to grow more alert with each passing second, shivering. Caecilius smiled down at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. The young Ardoni stiffened. _

_ “Can you tell me your name, young one?” _

_ He swallowed. “Thalleous V–” the child broke off, eyes widening as they locked onto the Ardoni kneeling in front of him. “Sendaris…” he felt his breaths quicken. “W-What do you want from us?” _

_ “Were you attacked by the Voltaris?” he asked. “We followed your tracks here from the aftermath of a battle. We had received reports–” _

_ Thalleous’s eyes welled up and he turned away, curling in on himself beside his brother. _

_ “Caecilius! You are horrible with children, let me handle them.” Claria pushed him out of the way and parked herself in front of them, giving her best apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about him, he isn’t often around kids.” _

_ Thalleous’s breathing hitched and grew shallow, tremors running through his small frame. _

_ She sighed and twisted to face her companion, “Look what you did to him!” _

_ Caecilius opened his mouth to say something, probably an apology, but Claria held out a hand. She approached the quivering child as one would a wounded animal and gently laid a hand on the center of his back, running it up his spine. “You do not have to talk about it, little one. But you two must come with us.” _

_ He looked up over his shoulder at her with vengeful, mistrusting eyes. “Why should I?!” _

_ Her eyes softened, “Thalleous, was it? Please–” _

_ “NO!” he screamed. “GET AWAY FROM US! YOU CAN’T TAKE US AWAY! WE HAVE TO–WE CAN’T–” _

“–BE ONE OF YOU!” Unbridled crimson energy erupted from the Sendaris with a roar, shattering the window beside his bed and throwing everyone else across the room. His life had been ripped from him, everything torn asunder in a single night–

“Thalleous!” came Senn’s voice, sounding almost… fearful.

His eyes snapped open and the world swam into being. Dust choked the air, dimming the strawberry hues of the sunset that shone in through the broken window, pooling like blood on the sheets. The girl, Magnorite, Elaine, a new human, and Senn all stared up at him from the floor amidst the ruins of the room.

His chest heaving, he stood there in silence while his heart hammered in his ears, adrenaline flooding his veins. Their horrified expressions dredged up many unwelcome memories… memories of blood and pain and death–

“Thalleous?” The purple-haired girl asked timidly.

The Ardoni felt something hot and wet trickle down his cheeks. With blurry vision, he took a shaky step back and sank down to the bed, gazing into his hands which rested in his lap. The bed frame creaked loudly in the silence.

He forced himself to bring his eyes to Senn’s. “I-I had not come swiftly enough…”

The white Ardoni’s brow furrowed, “What are you talking about?”

Thalleous closed his eyes as another tear slid down his cheek, his voice ragged. “Your family, Senn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 6/21/20: The beautiful illustration for this chapter was done by the amazing Nemuri! Thank her for me! Just bear in mind that Thalleous had absorbed his Mobilium Song by that point—she took some artistic license with it ;)
> 
> Here's her DeviantArt, if you're interested: https://www.deviantart.com/nemuri0740


	8. Deafening Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/Content Warning: violence/gore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the “full experience,” listen to “Concrete Halls” by C418. You can do so here:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DwXtbA64lHE

The leader of the Voltaris cracked a smile.

“I think that the clans will soon be regretting their past transgressions.” He replied silkily, gazing into the Song clutched in the titan’s hand.

In his other, he twirled a wispy Nether Star between his armored fingers as it radiated a deep lavender glow. Its gilded center swirled and pulsed to a soundless rhythm, throwing shadows over the Nether Lord’s helmet and molten eyes. Said shadows coalesced and shimmered, revealing a council of Ardoni from multiple clans, wreathed in darkness. The only light in the cave’s room came from the moon outside and their luminescent markings. All present were listening to the single Kaltaris, who appeared to be quite agitated.

“They are banding together as we speak,” the Lord of the Nether allowed the image to dissipate, meeting the eyes of the Deathsinger as he held out the Song and tucked the Star away. “It would be best if you did not allocate them more time to prepare.”

Ingressus plucked the Mobilium Prime from his outstretched hand. “Nineteen years have I waited in this place, readying myself for this day. At times, I had wondered if it would ever come.”

“Yet, here we are.” The Lord of the Nether rumbled.

“Here we are,” the Deathsinger agreed. “Year by year, I have watched as Ardonia grows weak... so that I may return when my enemies are gone.” He clenched his fist around the Song, “When my name has been lost to time and my greatest adversary is no longer there to stop me.”

Chronos examined his expression, searching for any signs of faltering. “One hundred and fifty years have scarcely passed in the lands above. Your kind can live to see three centuries, so tell me, Ingressus, have you waited long enough?”

“The only true threats are no more. My old enemy has long since abandoned hope, and that champion will die soon. Besides,” he scoffed, “I can’t afford to wait, now that Tygren and the other Voltaris have set everything into motion. The clans begin to rally their forces at this very moment.” A grin slipped into place on his face, “I have every intention to meet them head-on.”

“I don’t wish to interrupt,” a guardsman began, approaching them with a respectful dip of his head. Their gazes turned to him, giving silent permission to continue. “King Chronos, the prisoner who had attempted to escape has been neutralized.”

“That is good to hear, Pythus.” The king said, his unique, dual-toned voice echoing off the arches surrounding his throne. “I take it, he is being put into place?”

Pythus nodded, “As we speak, by Tygren himself.”

“I want to see these prisoners for myself,” Ingressus stated. “Which cell are they being held in?”

“The same as the prisoner.”

“Interesting…” the Voltaris mused, “has his behavior changed in any way?”

“You may observe for yourself, I have not seen him.”

“I will hasten, then.” The Deathsinger urged as amber energy flowed up his arm from the Song in his fist, skittering over his gray skin and seeping into his jagged markings until they glowed a bright gold. As the cube dissolved entirely, they transitioned back to their usual reddish-orange. He let out a chuckle, “It has been too long since I’ve felt a Prime singing in my veins.” The Voltaris leader raised an arm and lights in every shade of yellow gusted around his form. As his markings grew brighter and brighter, the guardsman retreated to a safer distance away. “I’d almost forgotten the raw power, the pain of wielding…”

Chronos eyed this conflagrant display, only mildly impressed. “It would be wise to not tarry,” he rumbled.

The Deathsinger flicked his gaze back up at the ruler and his markings’ brilliance returned to their normal reddish-orange hue as the golden light dispersed. “How easy it is, to lose oneself to a Song…” he stared into his palms, then clenched them and raised his gaze, squaring his shoulders. “Having stood by for two decades, I will wait no longer.”

The two Netherans watched as he vanished in an explosion of golden light and sparks, leaving a faint hum resonating on the scorched air.

* * *

Coming around, the first thing Ria was aware of was a tender spot on the top of her head, off to one side. It throbbed with each beat of her heart. The second thing she noticed was a hard, gritty floor below her that smelled of ash and… blood?

She opened her eyes and pulled herself into a sitting position, gray skin rubbing against the abrasive bricks below. The sheer heat in this place was hellish, only made worse by the scratchy, dry air and the pervasive maroon that was found everywhere, even in the bars.

Bars.

She was in a cell.

Ria’s heart jumped and she spun around, finding reddish prison bars entrapping her on all sides. She sat in a square cage in the center of a large room, its ceiling disappearing into the murk high above. In all directions, halls of black and maroon brickwork faded off into a reddish haze, studded with occasional blue torches flickering eerily in their bone brackets. Far off in the mist of spores and fog drifted a blazing yellow creature, its moans echoing back down the corridor to Ria’s ears and sending chills down her spine. Distant, shrill cries could be heard from behind the walls of the fortress, warped by their own echoes into something from a night terror that floated on the thick, hot air. Clashes of heavy pieces of metal rang out in the distance, reverberating like powerful footsteps and sinister conversations held in the shadows of concrete halls, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

Her head spun. _How had this happened?_

“Oh good, you’re awake.” A heavy voice remarked. “We were captured, that’s how.”

“What?!” The young Ardoni’s eyes shot wide as she noticed the other Sendaris, “Did–”

“You… said that aloud. How is your head?” He asked as she rubbed it. He and three other ash-streaked Sendaris met her gaze from their spot against the bars, of varying ages with darker, cobalt markings. She vaguely recognized their faces from her village.

She dropped her hand. “Probably bruised. It’s all right. But… where are we?” Her eyes fell to the lone Ardoni leaning against the opposite side of the cell, the only sign of life being the slight rise and fall of his chest. A small wooden bowl sat on the floor beside him, untouched. What was most striking, however, was his clan. “What’s a Nestoris doing here?”

The fourth Sendaris shrugged, giving off an air of apathy. “He’s been here, in that same spot, since we woke up. Hasn’t moved or said a word.”

“It perhaps is best to leave him be for now,” the first advised, “until we all have grown more accustomed to our situation.”

She reluctantly agreed but couldn’t help studying him, wondering what he had been through to put him in a state like this. His golden markings were dull and a large spidery scar wrapped around most of his left side, appearing to have been from a rather severe burn long ago. The Nestoris’s hair was lank and had fallen into his eyes, but he didn’t appear to care, if he noticed at all. Through his gray skin, his ribs showed slightly. Rather loose iron shackles encircled his ankles, and he was so thin that he could probably have pulled his feet out of them without too much trouble. Yet, his entire being seemed to be weighted down with exhaustion—not merely fatigue, but a sheer weariness of the world evident in his gaunt expression and sunken eyes, the face of someone who had given up long ago. And he wasn’t all that much older than herself, judging by the length of his honey-colored horns.

 _Could that become us?_ The young Sendaris wondered, examining his unfocused gaze, then pushed the unwelcome thought away and pulled her eyes from the poor Ardoni. She wanted to help him but didn’t know how.

The third Sendaris patted the floor beside himself and Ria came over, taking a seat. “We’ve already traded stories. We were all attacked by the Voltaris—that’s how I earned this.” He pointed to a long cut across his right calf. Blue-tinged blood had crusted around its edges. Ria winced. So that’s where the stench came from.

“You are Ria, correct? Daughter of Osivian?” The second asked. She nodded with a jerk of her head. With no small effort, she pushed all thoughts of him out of her mind. She wouldn’t think of him, not now. If she did… she feared it would be too much to bear.

“Wh… what are your names?” She managed to choke out.

The first gave her a sympathetic look. “I am Netirius. I saw what had happened… I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said, her words hollow.

“I am Tauris,” said the second. “Please, accept my condolences as well. I knew your father, we would hunt together on occasion to feed the village. We’re responsible for a few of each other’s scars,” he chuckled fondly at the bittersweet memories.

Ria nodded again, not trusting herself to speak.

The third shifted, holding his wound. “I am also deeply sorry for your loss. If there is any way we can help, please, let us know.” Tauris nudged him and he blinked. “Yes, right. I am Aldebaran, his brother.”

It was only then that Ria noticed their markings’ similarities. “You’re lucky to still have one another,” she said softly.

“I wish others had been as fortunate,” Tauris sighed, dragging a finger over a seam in the coarse brickwork.

“I am Keion, by the way,” the fourth began, growling, “My entire family was slain by the Voltaris. They will taste my revenge, one day… I will bathe in their wretched blood!”

Netirius gripped the arm of the younger Sendaris. “Keion, please. We all wish for vengeance, but if we are to succeed, we first must escape this hell and plan our attack on the Voltaris. To do that, we must go to the masters of the four clans.”

Slowly, a hoarse sound that could be approximated as laughter grew in volume, along with the shifting of chains. The eyes of the Nestoris on the other side of the cell lifted slightly, as if it took all his energy just to raise them. He shook his head, a sad, bitter smile on his lips.

Ria was jarred by the voids that were his eyes, glazed, dull, devoid of all hope. His face said it all: _You’ll never escape from here._

Chills skittered down her spine at the sight of those dead eyes gazing deep into her as if her soul were bared for all to see.

“He hasn’t said a word this entire time we have been locked up here,” Tauris muttered. “It’s unnerving.”

“He might be mad,” Keion added. “You never know.”

“I believe he may be lightly sedated, judging by his sluggish movements…” Netirius trailed off thoughtfully. “Might be a potion of slowness…”

Slowly, warily, and perhaps against her better judgement, she picked her way over to him on the rugged floor, to the chagrin of the others. “Let the poor man be, Ria. He may not be in his right mind…” Netirius trailed off as she took a seat beside him at a comfortable distance.

“Can you tell me your name?” She asked after a moment.

He blinked, and the silence stretched on.

“Now may be a good time to move…” Adlebaran murmured.

Ria frowned at them, quelling their grumbling. Turning back to the Nestoris, she sighed. “How… how long have you been here?” she dared ask, not really expecting a response.

After appearing to think about it for a few heartbeats, he slowly shook his head, not knowing. Without hesitation, she grabbed his hand and gave it what was meant to be a comforting squeeze.

He flinched away, a wordless gasp escaping his lips at the sudden touch. Those dull golden irises were suddenly flooded with panic, shining with terror as his breaths quickened into frantic pants.

“Ria…” Keion said, but she swatted a hand in his direction.

The young Sendaris slowly reached out to his shoulder, trying to give him a reassuring smile. Yet, she only felt tears begin to well in her eyes. The Nestoris’s own had grown clearer as he met her gaze, letting out a soft sob. His arm reached up and Ria allowed him to trace his fingertips over her features, to tangle in her hair. She couldn’t imagine what this must be like for him, after being alone in the company of your enemies for who knew how long, apparently subjected to who knew what forms of torture—and that was going off of the old burns alone.

“I’m really here,” she said, slowly taking his hand from her ash-streaked hair. She rubbed the back of it, her fingers slipping over the rough, scarred surface. A tear crawled down her chin, already beginning to evaporate in the unrelenting heat that stung at her eyes and stole her breath.

His hand dropped as the sound of footsteps approached from a nearby hallway. The Nestoris jerked away, renewed panic electrifying his thin frame. Ria wiped at her face and got to her feet as a Voltaris came into view from around a corner. The blue torches cast eerie, soft shadows over his ruby markings. His familiar markings.

Her face twisted into a snarl at the sight, and even more so when she saw that he was dragging the limp, bloodied form of a fifth Sendaris.

“Ares!” exclaimed Keion as he rushed to the bars, rattling them. “Ares!”

“Save your breath,” the Voltaris sneered. He opened the single door with a lever and threw the new Sendaris—Ares—inside. He landed hard on the unforgiving brick floor, kicking up reddish dust in a small cloud around him. Keion and Tauris hurried to his side, attempting to address his injuries and rouse him.

“What do you want from us?” Ria snarled behind clenched teeth, feeling her nails dig into her palms.

He looked her dead in the eyes, “Come out.”

“No.”

“Allow me to rephrase that…” he drew his iron sword and its blade began to crackle with scarlet energy. “Come. Out.”

Ria shot a glance back at the Nestoris, but he was frozen in place. She shuddered to think of what laid in store for her, if that state was what he had been reduced to…

“Go ahead, take as long as you wish,” the Voltaris growled.

With great reluctance and tremulous steps, the young Sendaris left the cell through its only door. She could feel the others’ anxious gazes on her back, but straightened her spine and stared the Voltaris dead in the eyes.

His fist came out of nowhere, a blur of gray and scarlet colliding with her jaw. She reeled backwards, stumbling as it erupted in pain and her teeth clacked together. Ria caught herself on the floor, scraping her palms, yet, a swift kick to her ribcage sent her sprawling and the air fleeing her lungs.

“Oh, are you not going to put up a fight? I doubt your father would approve of that, but I suppose you can ask him yourself, shortly.” Another sudden kick to her side followed his words, with a new burst of pain.

Without warning, his fist was in her hair and she was dragged back onto her feet. Ria clutched at her scalp, clenching her sore jaw as some of the strands began to pull free.

He studied her, drawing his iron sword along the edge of her chin and down her neck, leaving a thin, stinging trail of blue-tinged blood. She stood perfectly still, knowing that he could end her life in mere moments, but her hammering heart betrayed her, thundering in her ears.

A quick flick of his blade across her forearm cut a shallow slash into her flesh and she gasped, gritting her teeth as she clutched it. Now her arm burned with a sharp pain alongside the throbbing ache of her head and ribcage.

The world flipped on itself in an instant and before Ria knew what had happened, her back slammed against the hard brick floor. Her vision grew dark around the edges as the back of her head cracked against the hard surface. Once again, the air whooshed out of her lungs and she felt several sharp, uneven edges of the brick cut into her back.

A wordless shout burst out from the direction of the cell… but Ria wasn’t completely sure. Coughing, she rolled onto her side and drew her knees into her chest. Her entire body cried out in protest. From her spot on the floor, she could see the shackled feet of the Nestoris standing just behind the bars that rattled in their sockets.

Her shoulder smarted as she was wrenched upright by her arm, gaining a better view of the imprisoned Ardoni. She clawed at the hand holding her, but it might as well have been carved from rock.

“Stop this!” Ria spat, but it came out as more of a pained groan. “Just... put me back in the cell!”

He paused for a moment. “If you insist.”

The Voltaris slammed her against the bars and the Nestoris on the other side jumped backward, tripping and crashing to the floor when the chain between his shackles pulled taut. All the others fled to the other side of the cell, but by that time, the Nestoris had regained his senses and warily shuffled towards her, scowling at the Voltaris who continued to hurl Ria’s battered frame against the bars. It was as if he were trying to shove her through gaps that could only fit an arm, to "put her back in the cell." She felt her nose crunch against the hard brick of a bar and a scream shot from her mouth.

The Nestoris also let out a shout, gripping the bars on the other side. Through blurred vision, Ria could see tears dripping down his face. Behind the haze that was her thoughts, she heard the same rough voice behind her as its owner ripped her from the bars and threw her to the floor, putting a foot on her breastbone. “By all means, Achillean, if you wish for me to stop… speak up.” the Voltaris grinned, showing a few too many teeth. His malevolent eyes flashed.

A choked cry was the only answer he received, yet the young Sendaris barely registered it. It was as if her head were slowly being split as pain carved into it with a chiseled edge.

The foot of her aggressor pressed into her sternum, making it more and more difficult to drag the hot, scratchy air into her lungs.

A low hum made its way to her ears, followed by a soft thud and a new voice. “Tygren, that’s enough. Go oversee the preparations back at Mt. Velgrin.” Quiet footsteps drew near and through her spotted vision, Ria could make out another pair of gray feet.

“Oh, but I’ve hardly gotten started.” The throaty voice of the Voltaris had an obvious smirk to it.

The other ignored him, and the Sendaris tried to focus on a new shape in front of her. Blinking, she saw that it was a hand, attached to an arm, attached to a shoulder, head, and face. It was another Voltaris, however, his expression held sympathy.

Wanting nothing more than to escape this torment and anguish, she took his hand and he heaved her to her feet.

The room vanished for a moment but swam back into existence and she found herself being held up by this new Voltaris, her hair in her eyes. In a sudden whirlwind of yellow, she was disconnected from the world as everything streaked and melded together, but then it all solidified just as quickly.

Ria was jarred by a sudden thud as they landed back inside the cell. The Nestoris—Achillean, she’d heard him called—wore an expression that withheld tides of emotions she couldn’t identify.

“Rather riled up, aren’t we?” The Voltaris gave him a look out of the corner of his eyes as he set the young Sendaris down onto the hot, scratchy bricks.

Achillean mouthed something, but no sound came out. Tygren laughed from outside the cell. “Look at him _try_.”

The Voltaris inside turned to face him. “Are you deaf? Get. Out.”

Tygren’s lip curled and he twirled his iron sword before fixing it to his back, striding off down a nearby hallway.

He faced the golden Ardoni, his tone speaking of old regrets. “Once, I was called the Deathsinger by my adversaries. But you, Achillean, you will call me that no longer!”

The Nestoris remained silent, his hands trembling. He didn’t know what he would have said even if he could speak. His former best friend, his greatest adversary… he looked him in the eye and hoped that his expression would communicate what words could not.

But he had lost hope long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: It’s been awhile, again. But don’t worry, I’m not losing motivation for this story, life’s just been busy. And heck, this story has barely started! Suffice it to say, I’m quite excited for what is to come.
> 
> On another note, I feel like I need to make a certain detail clear. Much like how one block in the Nether is eight in the Overworld in vanilla Minecraft, one year in the Nether is eight in the overworld. That means that while only 19 years have passed in the Nether, approximately 150 have gone by in Ardonia. And, if anyone is wondering about how long Ardoni typically live (since 150 years is a while), know that 1 “Ardoni year” is 3.5 to 4 “human years” (a.k.a. regular years, 365.25 days) which makes the average human lifespan 80 years, while the average Ardoni lifespan is ~300 years.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading and your patience!
> 
> EDIT: I'm officially putting Resurgence on hiatus starting now so I can focus on my upcoming exams for the next couple of weeks. During this time, I intend to get caught up on making the chapter illustrations, as well as organize all my plans for the future of this fic (things will start falling apart if I don't do that soon XD). Since I want to be able to post updates more frequently in the future, I'll have to hit pause on the current stuff. (Think of it like the mid-season break in the canon series, haha). My best guess is that this will last about a month.  
> Thanks for sticking with me! (and getting this far in the author's note)


	9. After All These Years

A familiar wave of nausea washed over Tygren, accompanied by a whirlwind of sound as purple particles fluttered across his vision, stinging his skin. His footsteps never faltered, however, as he traversed the gateway between worlds. A gust of icy air struck him and his foot met snow, sinking into the soft powder. It glittered silver in the pooling moonlight as the scent of ice filled his nostrils.

He was back at Mt. Velgrin.

On the other side, his vision focused and he was met with chilled air, a stark contrast to the hellish land from which he had come. Many Voltaris bustled about, and all of them snapped to attention as he emerged.

“What’s the situation?” A younger female asked, the first to approach him. Her vermilion markings glowed softly in the darkness, almost rippling. “Are there new orders?”

“Eager, are we?” Tygren didn’t meet her eyes. He raised his voice even though all present were already focused on him, their ears perked. “One-and-a-half centuries have we waited in the shadows, preparing to exact our revenge upon the clans, upon Ardonia. Now, our time is fast approaching, my brothers. The clans already begin to muster their forces as I speak, and this mountaintop will be where they first turn.” He swept his gaze around the growing crowd, a multitude of red eyes peering at him from eager faces. The Voltaris masses had not seen true action since the War, other than a few spats here and there. They had all been itching for a chance to come out of the shadows, to reclaim what was once theirs and to right past wrongs.

“After all,” he went on, locking eyes with a few of the ranks, “We want to give our leader the proper welcome he deserves, do we not?” A smirk worked its way onto his features and he raised his eyes to lock his gaze with a particular Ardoni in the crowd. “Lucidius, remain here. All the rest of you, return to your tasks. If I catch you slacking, you’ll deeply regret it.”

They all dispersed, talking to each other and shooting the addressed Voltaris various looks. After a minute or so, the Voltaris deputy and Lucidius were the only ones who remained where they stood. Tygren approached him, his footsteps crunching softly in the snow that had been trampled by many feet. The other Ardoni swallowed, stifling his apprehension. He didn’t know what the deputy wanted, but when a member of the ranks was singled out, it was seldom for a pleasant reason.

“Relax, Lucidius.” Tygren purred, which only put the other Voltaris more on edge. “I’m tasking you with the organization of Song wielders.”

Lucidius wanted no part in it, but knew better than to directly oppose the deputy. He liked having his limbs. “Why me? Isn’t there someone better suited for the job?”

“I would have given this assignment to Zinaida, were he here. Then again,” a thoughtful look crossed Tygren’s features, “if he was so incompetent that he could be slain by a mere knife-wielding human, perhaps you are less likely to disappoint me.” His eyes flashed, making the thinly-veiled threat abundantly clear.

It was a shame, Lucidius thought, that Tygren was easily disappointed. But he straightened his spine and gave the deputy a firm nod, putting on his best show of being undeterred. “I will do what I must.”

A smile cracked Tygren’s face. “Oh, I’m sure you will.” His tone switched to all-business. “Your priority is to find all Voltaris that have defensive and offensive Songs, a large shield would be ideal. Collect them and bring them to me, interrupt me if you must. Now get.” He waved an arm in dismissal and Lucidius flinched, but then recovered himself and strode off. The Voltaris cupped his hands to his mouth as he began to shout for those with Songs to gather around him.

There weren’t that many of them, Tygren noted with a frown as they began to trickle from the crowd. There were even fewer who wielded weapons not made from iron, even he only bore a rather simple short sword with a wide steel blade, good for slashing and hacking. Speaking of, he needed to check on the smiths. The few of them had relocated their workstations to the Overworld to be afforded more time, more than what the Nether could offer. There were many weapons to be made, others in need of repair. Daily deliveries of lava from the Nether sped the process along quite nicely, allowing their furnaces to always remain hot. It was all coming together as planned, each piece clicking into place.

Tygren approached the mouth of a cave that had been widened and hollowed out long ago, now filled with the clanging of tools and shooting sparks, the smells of metal and sweat thick on the air. He could feel the heat of the place from where he stood, the top layer of snow beneath his feet had long since melted into a watery slush.

“Lethe.”

She looked up from her workbench near the entryway, wiping some sweat from her brow with the hand that clutched a cross pein hammer. The other held the shaft of a spear, pressing its glowing red head against a blackened anvil. The skin of her hands was calloused and cracked, tendons taut in her arms. Her cracked lips split into a crooked grin, “So, the mighty deputy manages to get off his high horse and mingle with us mortals. Ingressus kick you out of the Nether, dear brother?”

Had she been anyone else, he would have dragged her out to be beaten publicly for such a remark. But he only let out a bark of a laugh and let himself in, knocking his knuckles against the side of a cracking anvil. “You all missed me that much? I should take my leave more often.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why not?” He asked honestly, that characteristic smirk never slipping.

Her face fell into shadow and she raised the hammer above her head, some of her short hair clung to her forehead like tendrils of inky darkness. “How do you have any notion that this will work, Tygren? This plan is mad, even for you. A second Great War? Will all this truly amount to anything different than the last?” The hammer fell and clashed against the head of the spear, its metal ringing.

“You doubt so easily, sister.” He shook his head slowly, planting his elbows on her anvil and leaning over. “We have learned much from our past mistakes. Ingressus and I have studied old strategies that were used in the Great War, picked out the flaws.” At that, Tygren plucked a shard of hot metal from the anvil’s head and rubbed it between his fingers, ignoring the small burns forming on his fingertips. “We have already given the clans a warning, have rendered a village from each to ashes. We have all been playing the waiting game for a long while, it is our time to strike back.”

She slapped his hands and the shard flew out of his grasp, landing somewhere on the floor. His face contorted for a moment, but he blinked and allowed his features to settle once more, simply raising an eyebrow at her.

“That was uncall–”

“You’re playing with fire, Tygren.” Lethe doused the spearhead in a container of water, steam hissing and billowing up around her. The glow of her red eyes cut through it like flames shining through smoke. “Battle strategies can fall apart with a single weak link. And believe it or not, _milord_ , our entire clan is weak.”

His tone hardened, eyes losing whatever mirth had been there. “The Nether forces have already pledged to bolster our ranks with their own numbers and new weaponry.”

She let out a sharp, derisive laugh, removing the blade from the water. It was now a sleek, gleaming silver. “I would not trust the Nether, even with all the aid they have given. I see no new weapons! Do you remember how well the first War went with all their _help_? Or did you forget that they are the reason I lost my right eye!” She jabbed her index finger at the black patch that covered the empty socket.

“Chronos has promised that we shall receive a shipment of netherite within two days. I trust you and the other smiths will put it to good use.” He leaned in, “The War did not end in our favor because of the Tidesinger’s efforts,” Tygren replied smoothly. “Without him, without his voice…” he let out a low chuckle, “there is no one to step up and lead Ardonia against us this time. Even if someone were to unite the kingdoms against us once again, it would be folly. They all are too weak.”

Lethe examined the spearhead for flaws with a trained eye, speaking softly. “Leaders hold an interesting kind of power, you know. While they may bear so much influence over their followers’ lives, what are they, really? A louder voice in the crowd?” She cast him a sideways glance, teeth glinting.

“Tygren?” A new voice asked from behind him. What impeccable timing.

The deputy gave Lethe a look but held his tongue, he would have a word with her later if he could find the time. Tygren slowly turned around to face the other Voltaris that had gathered—a rather meager group—all facing him.

“Good, Lucidius. Return to your prior task.” He switched his attention to the small crowd and began to take stock of the Songs they wielded. It turned out that one Voltaris did have a Protisium Song that could erect a rather large shield, however, it could only defend from a single direction. It would have to suffice for the battle that was sure to come.

“We weren’t finished,” came Lethe’s clipped tone from her workstation.

The Voltaris deputy felt irritation swell within him, but he repressed it. Best to save his resentment for his true enemies. He focused on the other Voltaris in front of him and ordered Protisium wielders to line up on his left, Aggressium wielders on his right. Yet one female remained in her place, looking unsure of where to go. She was the same one who had first approached him after he stepped out of the Nether.

He watched as she hesitantly approached him. “Ky’Tygren?”

“Pick a side, girl.” He said dismissively.

She attempted a shrug, “I wield a Mobilium.”

He pushed his inner frustration deeper with a smile that must have appeared painful. “Make yourself scarce. With a Song like that, it should not be too difficult.”

Her form blurred as her markings brightened, and she was suddenly out of sight.

Tygren felt something poke his upper back. “Surprise attack,” she said as he turned around and saw her with her arms folded across her chest. “If you want to win this battle, we Voltaris will need to use all the Songs at our disposal, that includes Mobilium and Supporium.”

“Touch me again and you will part with your finger,” he smirked, and her face paled a shade. But, he had to acknowledge the fact that she presented a logical argument. The deputy did not want to reveal all the Songs in his clan’s possession to their enemies, but they would be liable to lose the battle if they did not use their full strength.

It was an oversight he refused to make.

Tygren sucked in a breath of icy air. “What is your name, girl?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Astralis.”

The deputy swept his gaze around the split group of Song-wielders on either side of him. “All of you, remain in your places. Astralis, show me these other wielders. After all, we may find more assets.”

* * *

“Giving me the silent treatment, eh?” The Deathsinger cracked a smile as if he had just said a joke, but none of the Sendaris heard a word of it. His old adversary had clenched his quivering fists and dropped his head, his lank, long hair shielding his face.

“Impossible!” Tauris shouted, and they all began to clamor their exclamations of disbelief and horror.

All but Keion, who remained silent as he got to his feet, turning from Ares’s prone, bloodied form. “I’LL KILL YOU!” He screamed, and launched himself at Ingressus. But the Voltaris leader vanished in a burst of yellow and reappeared behind the stumbling Sendaris, knocking his legs out from under him with a single swipe from one of his own. He crashed to the rough floor and the Deathsinger planted a foot on his back.

“Don’t waste my time,” he growled. Keion squirmed and writhed beneath his foot, but he pressed down harder. “You are _nothing_ to me.”

“Then why take us here?” Aldebaran asked boldly, but the Voltaris could see his hands were trembling. “If you are the Deathsinger, why save Ria?”

“Because,” Ingressus looked at him out of the corner of his eye, turning back to the Nestoris, “even though your lives are worthless to me, you do have your uses.”

The Deathsinger couldn’t see the others’ expressions now, nor did he care to, but they were likely stricken. The image didn’t give him the satisfaction he thought it would, however, and he pushed it down. Instead, he slowly approached his old enemy, the one once known as Tidesinger.

It was laughable. The Ardoni was a mere skeleton now, not even a shadow of his former self. After all these years, Achillean was defeated. His hope was extinguished, Ingressus could clearly see it in his dull eyes. It brought a smirk to his lips.

Somewhere beneath the darkness and void, a small throb pulled at his heart. Perhaps it was a memory, but it was a memory of something, someone who no longer existed. The Deathsinger loathed that part of himself with a fiery passion, but was powerless to purge it. Oh, how he had tried.

Glowering, he pulled himself from his brooding and put on a deeper sneer. The Nestoris was shaking more prominently now as Ingressus had drawn closer, his breaths quickening as the skin around that visible rib cage puffed in and out, quicker and quicker. He tripped and fell against the cell’s maroon bars, chest heaving for air that he couldn’t seem to catch.

“Look at yourself.” The Deathsinger snarled, “You’re beaten. Weak. Broken. _You are nothing._ ”

And it was true. There was a glazed look in the eyes of the Nestoris, his jaw clenched so tightly that all the cords in his neck bulged, ropes pulled taut. His fingernails dug into his palms so hard that had they not been gnawed down to their beds, they would have drawn blood. He kicked out blindly, his body wracked with spasms. Sweat sheened his forehead, tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes.

And then he screamed, a long, gurgled sound that spoke of sheer terror, of pain. All the while Ingressus stood there, staring down in disgust. He had had enough, and turned away. The sight had begun to twist his gut, sickening him. Pathetic.

This was how it was meant to be, after all.

The Deathsinger whipped around at the sound of the Nestoris’s cries growing louder. He wound up and kicked sharply in the small of his back, stunning the other Ardoni.

“Stop it, shut up, shut up!” He growled, delivering another kick.

Achillean was shocked into silence, perhaps from the pain, perhaps from the simple fact that he’d been touched. Either way, it seemed that he’d been snapped back to reality, to the present. Tears were already evaporating off his face and he gasped for air like a fish, eyes fervent with panic and terror. The injured female Sendaris—the girl he’d relieved of Tygren’s displeasure—had reached out to the Nestoris as if to comfort him. A small whimper escaped Achillean’s lips and his hand jumped up to stifle it, but Ingressus stepped away, shaking his head. He was done.

“You’re weak, you always were,” he spat, and left before he did something else he’d regret. He slammed the cell’s door shut with a _CLANG_ and stormed off to clear his head, maybe take his anger out on some of the Nether’s mobs.

He hated this.

* * *

Time passed. How much, he didn’t know. He never knew. The light in the large room never changed, flickering from those surreal blue torches. The Nether was a place of surrealism. Here, the land itself was composed of sheer cliffs, deep crevasses, promontories that jutted like snaggleteeth as if warped from the heat. Spindly spires of rock reached towards the massive cavern’s ceiling, which was studded by glowing, glasslike shards like sharp chandeliers high above. Lava flowed in rivers and channels at a syrupy pace, collecting in molten oceans under which massive white beasts dominated the air. They hung in the sky—if it could be called that—like parasites, leeching off the dusty, spore-laden air that always scratched at his throat.

His throat.

An arrow of panic twisted in his chest once more even though the Deathsinger’s footfalls had long since faded, swallowed up in the haze of the halls. His tormenter was gone.

“A–Achillean?” The Sendaris girl—Ria—asked, shakily sitting up as she wiped at blood that trickled from a nostril. Her nose was broken. “Are y– _cough_ –are you alright?”

No, he was not. His heart seemed ready to burst, hitching in his throat as he fought to calm his breathing, to anchor himself once more. But at the moment, he was more concerned about her condition and that of the other Sendaris—Ares?—whose bloodied form still lay prone.

Two of the Sendaris had made an attempt to tend to him, but there was little they could do except wait until he woke.

“Ria, please, do not move around if you can help it.” Another Sendaris told her gently, Achillean couldn’t recall his name. His mind was still somewhat hazy from whatever was in that stew. He always tried to consume as little of it as possible, but it was his only source of food and drink in this hell.

He sighed, allowing his eyes to slip closed. He was always tired, always aching.

“Achillean?” Came the girl’s voice again, a bit more distant this time.

Why listen? He couldn’t communicate, couldn’t help her or the others, so why bother trying at all? He regretted reaching out to her earlier, for allowing himself to feel a shred of hope. The new arrivals were only in the same boat as him now, they would quickly learn to become hollow is what it took to survive. To live another day, if there even were days in this wretched place.

When he could work up the energy to think, Achillean often wondered why he continued to go on like this. The Nestoris could starve himself and die easily enough, he was emaciated as it was.

However, permitting himself to waste away to nothing… it felt like letting _them_ win. After all these years, that was what he clung to when all else had been stripped away. He had given up on the hope of escape long ago, how foolish he had been for ever thinking it were possible. Even so, he had no life to return to in the Overworld; by now, too much time must have passed. He felt it in the pit of his stomach.

He was tired, just so tired. Flashbacks like the one he’d just had always sapped at his strength, leaving him feeling weaker and more miserable than usual. That and the knowledge that these Sendaris would be subjected to the same fate as he had settled like a rock in his chest. Just deadweight.

He almost laughed, and would’ve, had he possessed the energy to do so. Nothing could save them now, and hope was less than worthless in a place like this. 

A new voice barked something, but the Nestoris had long since tuned out his surroundings. It was muffled, distant.

“All of you, on your feet. Don’t make me say it a third time.”

His eyes opened as if on their own accord, stinging against the dusty, hot air. He was too dehydrated for them to water, however. Achillean sat there, watching as the group of Sendaris helped each other to their feet, wincing and gritting teeth. Ares had since woken up, and was being supported under one arm by… Torus, was it? No, _Tauris_. He might as well learn their names, if they were to be his cellmates from now on.

Three Netherans clad in black armor and bearing weapons made from the same material stood outside the large cell. The Nestoris deflated.

“You are being transferred to a different cell,” began the middle Netheran, his black-bladed sword unsheathed and at the ready. “Try anything and we will kill you without hesitation, we do not need all of you. Form a line, now.” His voice was scratchy, as if he had a habit of inhaling rock dust.

Ares, Ria, and Aldebaran winced and limped as the group shuffled around, forming a single-file line. Achillean sat unmoving, watching out of mild curiosity and boredom. So they were leaving, fine. He resolved not to care… but that girl had shown him kindness, hadn’t she? She’d approached him when none of the others would, the others who preferred to brand him as a lunatic instead. He probably was, in all regards. Achillean figured that he would talk to the walls if he could speak, if only to hear a sound he could trust. But no, that had been taken from him as well.

Then the girl did something he didn’t expect. Raising her head, she met the smoldering eyes of the center Netheran. “What about him? Will he be coming?”

She meant Achillean. He tried to appear apathetic.

“No.” It was a single monosyllable that actually hurt him, even though he hadn’t expected it to.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

This was his life.

Once the six Sendaris had lined up, one of the Netheran guards pulled the lever on the other wall. The iron door of the cell swung open on its hinges.

Then, the Sendaris known as Keion let out a blood-curdling yell of fury that set the Nestoris’s nerves on fire. From the front of the line, he lunged at a guard and tackled him to the floor. Achillean felt something rising within him, but he still did not allow himself to hope.

That is, until the others joined in with a vengeance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: How long has it been, one and a half centuries? (XD) That aside, I am happy to officially declare this fic to be off hiatus! Between writing the chapters and making their illustrations, I can’t promise a set schedule of updates (but that’s old news). I try my best, but it is a lot of work for one person. Speaking of, I've finished several illustrations! They will be posted soon.
> 
> On another note, let me just say that I am very excited for the next few chapters ;)
> 
> As always, you are a terrific audience, thank you for reading and your support!
> 
> EDIT 6/21/20: Said illustrations have been posted to their corresponding chapters: 4, 5, 6, and 7. (Though a week is not too "soon," I apologize. I'm working on the illustrations for chapters 8 and 9, those will be most likely coming with chapter 10's release.
> 
> EDIT 6/23/20: Some of my friends have suggested a certain song is quite fitting for this chapter, I can’t help but agree. Check out "Your World Will Fail" by Les Friction, you can listen to it here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQOJ8n76sys
> 
> EDIT 7/27/20: Somehow I’ve managed to forget to include this chapter’s illustration until now, but all credit goes to Nemuri, thank you!


	10. Delirium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/Content Warning: violence/gore

**(For the “full experience” of chapter 10, listen to** [ **“Sinking Into Flames”** ](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=TrtYeNPQVrY&list=OLAK5uy_nE0EBaTHeqEs5UrO7BHGAWll8Ub_4m4yM&index=10&t=0s) **by Really Slow Motion)**

* * *

“My what?”

The Sendaris forced himself to open his eyes again and focus on the shocked face on the floor ahead of him. He didn’t know what he was feeling, the emotions so turbulent that he couldn’t hope to pin any of them down.

“Had I arrived a few minutes sooner,” his nails dug into his palms, voice so filled with regret that it hurt his own ears to hear, “you would not have been made subject to the same fate as I.”

Senn unconsciously bit his lip, “Thalleous, you’re… you’re not making any sense.”

Then something cool and pointed pressed into the youthful Ardoni’s jugular. “I don’t want to hear some long sob story—I only came here to get a few stitches in my shoulder,” jeered the thief. “After I cut you, kid, that witch of a girl just _had_ to go and return the favor, didn’t she?”

Thalleous’s muddled mind somehow managed to connect the dots and he realized that this man before him was responsible for Senn’s injury. All of a sudden, it was as if the pent-up turmoil inside of him were focused into a single heated beam of protective anger. 

The champion’s sword found itself in his hand and he was suddenly on his feet once again. He couldn’t recall standing up, but there he was. On somewhat unsteady feet, he strode towards the green-eyed human while feeling a ball of black hatred uncurling within his breast, erasing the pain for now. The man’s hand holding the long knife never wavered.

“Take one more step, I dare you.” He snarled.

The champion’s tone was remarkably steady. “Put the blade down.”

“You first, old man.”

_Old man._

Flames.

Sendaria was burning, there was nowhere to run. Tygren’s face leered at him, twisted with the satisfaction of wounding his foe. His crimson eyes were the same color as the champion’s blood, already beginning to drip down the shaft of the spear lodged in his chest.

His face said it all: _I know what you truly are._

For a second, he was too shocked to move. The only thing he registered was the sensation of blood from his wound at his feet, pooling around his toes. Panic and anger twisted in his chest but he didn’t allow them to seize control, not now. Thalleous’s markings flared a bright yellow and he vanished in an explosion of golden light, reappearing not a moment later right in front of his adversary. The thick crimson liquid was up to his ankles now.

“I will not allow you to take more innocent lives,” he scowled, feeling rage surge through his veins as if it were taking the place of all the blood he had lost.

Senn’s expression was a peculiar mix of heavy relief and shock, as if he couldn’t decide on which emotion to feel. The blade had pricked his gray skin, wickedly sharp. Such a simple action, but it sent a wave of protective anger crashing over the Sendaris.

Distantly, Thalleous could feel the others present looking on in stunned silence, unable to do anything. Why were they here, in Sendaria? Vaguely, he wondered how and why they had come here… but could they help matters?

No. They would only get in his way. He had one job, and that was to keep Senn safe. This was as certain as the setting sun on the horizon, as certain as the light fading from his own markings.

As the Sendaris advanced, wading through the blood that sloshed around his knees, shadows in the clanless Ardoni’s eyes coalesced into pits of fear. This gave Thalleous some pause. What reason would Senn have to fear him—why…

Tygren. That accursed Voltaris must have convinced him in some way that the champion was the enemy, the villain.

Their entire _clan_ were the villains!

Sucking in lungfuls of air, Thalleous steadied himself with the trickle of energy from his greatsword, his knuckles aching. A chill jetted down his spine but he hardly felt cold or fearful. The pain of his wound lingered like a gnawing beast, far less sharp than it had been before. But still the blood rose.

Tygren stepped up to him, keeping his blade at Senn’s jugular. Something was off about the situation, perhaps the way the Voltaris carried himself… but it hardly mattered. The Ardoni he had sworn to protect was about to get his throat slashed, his blood would be added to the reeking red tide that had risen to the champion’s waist.

Thalleous raised his sword, bracing to attack his foe. “C-consider this your final warning.”

“What are you going to do, huh? You can barely stand!” Tygren leered in a voice less deep than the champion expected. 

It didn’t matter. This Voltaris needed to die.

The Sendaris answered with a forward lunge, trying to focus his adversary’s attention upon himself instead of the clanless Ardoni on his knees. Tygren twirled his sword—knife?—and ducked inside the champion’s reach, almost managing to land a blow. 

Thalleous twisted and felt his wound stretch, then a sharp burst of pain as something within him split. The pain from before had returned with a vengeance. Gritting his teeth as spots whirled in his vision, the Sendaris heaved his diamond blade at his opponent. It seemed to have tripled in weight as sticky crimson waves splashed him in the face.

His sword hit something. He was somewhat surprised, but then again, he was the Ardoni champion. A startled, pained yell clapped his ears like a blow to the head as the sea of blood swirled around him. Now his sight was going, getting rather dark around the edges and blurry in the center as he crumpled to his knees on top of something fleshy. His stomach heaved, nausea clawing its way up his throat. 

Thalleous hung on to the hilt of his sword as the world tilted and spun on an unnatural axis like a frothy scarlet river. Hues melted and blurred together beneath the heat as something dripped into the Sendaris’s eyes, something salty. He rubbed at them and blinked, trying to clear his fuzzy vision. He couldn’t stand, no matter how much he tried. The current would just pull him down again, threatening to sweep him away with each passing second.

Over the growing rush of blood, he could faintly, ever-so-faintly make out someone calling his name. It was what he anchored himself to against the current. 

The fires had been put out by the red tides, but their smoke still hung on the air, mixing and fermenting with the thick smell of blood… it all choked him, but he was no longer in Sendaria… was he?

Suddenly he bent over and retched, but nothing came up other than a bit of bile that burned his throat. Had he thrown up blood as well? He couldn’t tell, not with the waves of crimson liquid nearly in his mouth. The metallic odor was so strong that it made his eyes burn.

His wound burned as well now, hotter than the rest of his body and far more painful. The gnawing beast had been replaced by venomous snakes that bit and whipped his wound with their fangs and tails, their poison spreading throughout his body. 

When had he dropped his sword? It was no longer in his grasp. He felt movement, then pain. Someone was touching him, several people, perhaps? Who were they, what did they want?

Where was Senn? Was he safe? Or had he drowned beneath these scarlet waters?

“S…” his lips would not form the right sounds, for the bloody tide had entered his mouth, flowing down his throat. He tried again, sputtering and choking, “S-sorry… shou’ve let me… let go...”

Tired. Oh, he was so tired. Voices yammered over each other around him, nonsensical jabbering that grew muted as his ears dipped under the waves. How he ached to slip back into the sweet oblivion and never wake, never face all these horrors again. But even though he could feel the blood sliding down his throat, somehow offering a bit of relief, the tide no longer rose.

The movement and swaying stopped when a soft surface met his back. He forced his eyes back open, seeing someone above him brushing strands of hair out of his face. Others bustled about, speaking in raised voices that clawed through his ears and into his skull.

His wound? Had it reopened? There was a sticky wetness forming beneath his back that he could somehow feel even with the syrupy blood flowing around him, growing more still. Gingerly, he touched two fingers to the general location of the injury’s opening on his chest, feeling a wetness there followed by greater pain from the very action.

The face above him had not moved, noticed the Sendaris as his vision cleared somewhat. “Senn…” Thalleous smiled, beyond relieved that he appeared to be all right. But the clanless Ardoni’s face was streaked with tears, chest heaving with quiet sobs. His heart panged and he reached up to try to wipe them away, but only managed to smear his own blood on the other Ardoni’s cheeks. “I... never told you…”

Blood, tears… and Thalleous felt the salty sweat on his brow, dripping into his eyes as they closed. Perhaps it was time… perhaps he could rest now...

“Don’t let go!” A voice jumped at him, piercing his thoughts—Senn’s voice. The Sendaris willed his eyes to open and meet the white ones above him, almost out of reach… 

The sunset behind the young Ardoni was a breathtaking sight, visible through the broken window. Hues of every warm shade smeared across the bottom of the sky, garnished with wispy puffs of salmon-pink clouds. Stars were beginning to wink into existence: distant, glowing eyes that looked down from the deep ocean above. 

With a faint sigh, the Sendaris allowed his eyes to slide closed as the sea of blood drained away and the sun sank beneath the horizon. He heard none of the commotion above as his senses faded to nothing, as the welcoming arms of the void embraced him and his chest stilled.

* * *

The face of the Sendaris shone with perspiration as he sucked in each breath, leaning heavily on his sword, the tip of which had sunken into the wooden floor. Senn couldn’t see the blade at his own neck but felt its razor-sharp edge, fine enough to slice hair. The tip pushed against his throat, electrifying his already frayed nerves. 

Thalleous heaved his sword up, raising it in what could be approximated as an offensive stance. “C-consider this your final warning.” 

The bandit radiated contempt as he took in the champion’s unsteady frame, never removing his knife from Senn’s throat. “What are you going to do, huh? You can barely stand!”

And he was right. Thalleous was swaying on his feet, his eyes glassy and distant with fever yet piercing in their intensity, twin blue flames. His tough skin looked almost translucent with how visible his dark arteries and veins were, webbing his body in a sickly mesh. But worst of all, the clanless Ardoni couldn’t wrench his gaze away from the fading markings of the Sendaris, the murderous look on his face.

He was afraid—afraid for his friend’s life, afraid of what he might do, but there was no time to ruminate on this because Thalleous lunged forward with a level of energy Senn would’ve thought impossible from someone in such a condition. The thief sidestepped and ducked within his reach, forced to release Senn for the moment to defend himself. But the ginger-haired man had quite possibly underestimated the champion’s ability to fight—so, when Thalleous twisted and swung his blade, he hadn’t allowed himself enough room to deflect it. It cut across his neck and chest, opening a wide red gash. His knife fell from his hand and landed with a thud on the wooden floor, but that was much quieter than the thump his body made a moment later, the splatters of blood.

Unexpectedly, an Aggressium Song materialized beside the thief’s body, its scarlet insides writhing to be lifted from the blood-slicked floor. It was a violent, deadly thing; quite at home among the violence and death in the room. And it was all over, just like that.

Senn’s attention snapped back to Thalleous as his knees gave out and he fell forward, hanging on to the hilt of his sword with white knuckles. A closer look revealed that the light in the champion’s eyes had lost its febrile intensity.

“Thalleous!” Senn choked out, stricken at the sight of the bandit’s pooling blood. The stench was enough to make his stomach want to empty itself, but he shakily swallowed his bile and lurched off the floor towards the less-fortunate Sendaris who was doubled over as he heaved. He sucked in a rattling breath and his enchanted greatsword slipped from his grasp as he collapsed on the body.

This seemed to wrest everyone from their shock. Elaine was already pulling a red potion out of her satchel, one that glimmered in the dim light as if enchanted. Twisting the cork out, she approached the unmoving Sendaris and knelt on the blood-slicked floor. His eyes didn’t follow her movements, not even as she brought the potion to his lips and poured it into his throat, forcing him to swallow.

He gagged a little, sputtering out words behind the crimson liquid and a fist closed around Senn’s heart. “S-sorry… shou’ve let me… let go...”

“Senn, Igneous, help me get him back on the bed.” It wasn’t a request.

Abbigail was scandalized, gesturing to the thief. “You’re—you’re just going to leave him there?”

Elaine’s words were rather clipped, her nose wrinkled against the thick smell of blood as she brushed some of the Sendaris’s gray hair off of his face. “Thalleous…” she paused as if choosing her words carefully, “did not know what he was doing, you could see it in his eyes.”

And Senn had seen it. The way the Sendaris spoke, how his gaze was so distant... he definitely didn’t have all his mental faculties about him. Regardless, he had just killed a man. It didn’t matter that the man had been a criminal, he’d taken a life all the same. But in doing so, he saved Senn. He was immensely grateful, so much so that the rush of relief almost made him lightheaded. He wasn’t dead, and no longer was in danger. But the smell of blood and bile was a pungent poison, a constant reminder of what he’d just witnessed.

Elaine looked to be less affected by the horror in front of her. The clanless Ardoni had a feeling this wasn’t the first time the healer had seen a dead body, that she’d watched someone die in front of her. It came with the territory, he supposed… healers can’t always save their patients.

That chasm of fear for the Sendaris widened inside his chest at the very thought, and his markings were already so dim. But in a feeble attempt to push his worry away, he did as Elaine asked. The Ardoni and Magnorite took Thalleous’s arms and legs, respectively, and pulled him off the thief’s corpse. Senn’s injured shoulder immediately cried out in protest but he gritted his teeth and tightened his grip. The elder Ardoni’s bandage fell away, revealing the ghastly wound through his chest. The ragged flesh there was ghastly and had taken on a whitish tint, dripping blood and pus. The taut stitches holding it together only added to the appearance that the Ardoni was tearing at the seams like a stuffed toy falling apart.

It all made Senn dizzy, the gruesome wound, the body on the floor, the ever-present smell of blood that he knew would never leave his nostrils for the rest of his life. It was all he could do to keep from vomiting on Thalleous, to keep his shaky legs beneath him.

He and Igneous deposited the Sendaris onto the bed and stepped away. His markings were a deep navy once again, the color of the night sky that was settling over the sunset. 

Thalleous’s fingers searched for the wound on his chest and came away bloody. It was then that the white Ardoni noticed the tears streaking his own face, but his friend was already reaching up with his bloodied hand, sloppily attempting to wipe them away with a reassuring smile on his face. “Senn…” he murmured as his hand fell, “I... never told you…”

That resigned look… as if he had just accepted his fate, his markings matching the darkness of the night that had descended so swiftly. It was too much. 

A cry wrenched itself from Senn’s throat and stabbed through the haze that had descended on his mind. “Don’t let go!”

But he had already fallen away.


	11. Tenacity

**(For the “full experience” of chapter 11, listen to this cover of** [ **“Sweden”** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3sfY1lRkEVA) **)**

* * *

Senn stood there, unable to process what exactly had happened just seconds ago. Thalleous had stopped breathing, his markings like tar, the stab wound a gruesome hole in his chest. Yet, he had survived so long and lived through so much that to… go so suddenly didn’t make sense. Not only that, but he had been about to tell the clanless Ardoni something, yet the words died on his lips.

Far away, the door to Elaine’s house was thrown open and some humans burst in, pelting questions and demands which only grew more urgent as they took in the grisly bodies. They had heard shouts and explosions, had seen bright flashes of light and the burst of glass when the window overlooking the street shattered. One of them got right up to the dazed Ardoni, the angles of his face brought into sharp relief as he spat angry words.

And then Senn’s feet were pulling him away, stumbling up the stairs. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and the gore and death below, from the lightless space, but he only found himself in the guest bedroom he’d slept in the night before. Harsh conversation could still be heard below.

He wanted to sit on the bed but could only stare down at the rumpled sheets. Had it really only been last night that he’d slept here? Well, he had clung to the pillow then, and it had seemed to help. He scooped the soft thing off the bed and cradled it in his arms, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Was he trying to reassure himself that it wasn’t his fault, somehow? 

It was a lie. In reality, he was helpless to do anything, useless. He’d stood by as his home burned around him, but it wasn’t even his rightful home, was it? He was merely an outcast: an Ardoni with no clan, no family, no home. And now Thalleous was counted among the dead, just like Ria and Osivian surely were as well.

Had the Voltaris really taken everything from him in one fell swoop?

“Hey,” a soft voice made Senn lift his head. It took him a moment to focus as he wiped at his eyes, seeing Igneous standing in the doorway and forcing a smile. He assumed the Magnorite was trying to be strong for his sake. In truth, the Ardoni only felt hollow, as if the very life had been sucked from him along with Thalleous’s. The heavy, all-consuming smell of blood still hadn’t left his nostrils even though he’d wadded up the pillow and pressed it to his face in a vain attempt to staunch the tears and prevent the reeking odor from finding him. It certainly wasn’t blocking the stench but still he clung to it, too afraid to let go. It gave him something to hide behind, something that muffled the horrors of the world.

Senn hadn’t remembered bringing his knees to his chest and sitting in the corner beneath the windows that looked out to the street below, but there he was. The scrape of rock against wood approached, then stopped when a large craggy arm put itself around his shoulders.

“Senn, I-I’m s—”

The colorless Ardoni slightly lifted his face from the pillow, not registering his words. “H-he always did his best to be there for me, even though he traveled most of the time, even though he wasn’t my father.” And then, a memory bubbled up from the lukewarm waters of his past. “There was this one time, a rainy day back when Ria and I were kids...”

_The pair had been playing outside in the growing puddles, stomping around to see who could make the biggest, grandest splash. In their efforts, they had run to the edge of Sendaria, to a land that was almost unfamiliar as rain poured down in sheets, but they hardly minded._

_The young girl climbed up a rock and sprang into the air, poised to careen into a magnificent puddle as Senn watched from a safe distance away. Yet, she came down and landed the wrong way, and with a shriek, her leg buckled beneath her._

_Senn remembered how his heart had quickened, desperation heightening his senses and his worry. Reality set in: They were caught outside in a thunderstorm and Ria had twisted her ankle. It would have been a long and arduous walk back home when one of them could barely put weight on her left foot._

_“Somebody, help!” The clanless Ardoni cried out as he ran to her, slipping in the mud._

_As if summoned by his cry, a bright yellow light erupted from nowhere to reveal a figure jogging towards the pair, somewhat veiled by the deluge._

_“Senn, Ria! Are both of you all right?” Asked the familiar voice as its owner reached the children and bent down to get a closer look._

_The clanless Ardoni blinked rainwater out of his eyes and helped Ria up, letting her lean on him as they peered up at the tall Sendaris through relieved eyes. “Uncle Thally! I’m okay, but she hurt her foot.”_

_“It got twisted,” the girl winced, holding it._

_He let out a slight sigh and knelt down, assessing her injury as she stretched out her leg. The warrior’s large fingers were surprisingly gentle on her ankle as he inspected it. “Fortunately, it’s not broken. However, I would advise against putting weight on it for the time being.” His azure eyes flicked up to meet both of them, full of warmth. “Oh, just be happy that I found the two of you. Your father is none too pleased.”_

_“I-it was an accident!” Senn stammered, but Thalleous held up a hand._

_“There will come a time for explanations later. Climb on up, Ria.” He reached out and took her weight from Senn’s side, removing the glowing greatsword from his back. The clanless Ardoni’s eyes widened as he took in the legendary blade, but the Sendaris girl was focused on something else._

_She pointed a little finger at something on his upper back that Senn couldn’t see from where he stood, “Hey where’d all these scars come from?”_

_The champion stood still and silent against the lashing rain. When he finally opened his mouth, his voice was quiet. “That... is a story for another time.”_

_“Can’t you tell us now?” Senn asked, leaning in as curiosity overtook him. “I want to see!”_

_“NO!” Thalleous whipped around to face him and the pair of children flinched, stumbling back and falling into the mud when Ria lost her balance. Looking uncharacteristically distressed, the elder Sendaris opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it and went over to the pair, getting down on his knees. “I-I-I’m sorry for getting so cross. Neither of you deserved that... will you forgive me?”_

_The girl didn’t even hesitate as she gave him a wide smile. “Yeah! You didn’t mean it, we still love you!”_

_The clanless child swallowed, “Y-yeah. It’s okay.”_

_Thalleous offered out his hand and Ria took it. He helped her onto his back and she wrapped her arms around his strong neck, clinging tightly. The Sendaris pressed on a smile as he glanced back, “Come, now. We best be back at Sendaria proper before nightfall. W-were you two off adventuring and exploring again?”_

_“Just like you always do!” She chirped and tightened her grip as he began to run._

_A mischievous smile grew on his face, but Senn thought it looked a tad forced. “Why, you ought to follow your father’s example, not mine.”_

_Pumping his shorter legs, Senn picked up the pace to keep stride with the champion. “Dad’s boring! Duty this, responsibilities that!”_

_The Sendaris let out a chuckle, “I admit, he can be rather strict. But nonetheless, you children would do well to respect your elders.”_

_Ria frowned, “He’s not as old as you!”_

_Thalleous sputtered, “W-what did you just say?” The girl’s eyes widened, but instead of looking apologetic, she started to giggle into his shoulder. He intentionally stumbled, jostling her around a bit. “When we return, I will see to it myself that your father gives you_ both _a lesson on proper manners.”_

_“Ah, n-no! We’re sorry!” Senn stammered._

_The champion gave him a bemused look, “Behave yourselves. Do you hear me back there, Ria?”_

_“Yep!” The young girl smirked mischievously as she tied his long hair into knots, unbeknownst to him. For a while, the trio continued onwards just like that and followed the rivers which, like arteries, led back to the heart of Sendaria._

“Who’s Ria?” Igneous asked, pulling Senn from his story. “It sure sounds like you two had a lot of fun when you were younger.”

“O-oh. Right.” How could he describe her? “She’s my adoptive sister, Sendaris. I-I don’t...” he swallowed, the words were like chunks of rock in his throat that made his eyes water. “she was there when—when Sendaria…” No, he couldn’t say it. It was all too much, much too soon to take in at once. If he allowed all these tragedies to overcome him, he’d shatter into a mess of shards all over the floor, too painful for himself or others to pick up. He wasn’t there yet but he was cracking, tearing at the seams like Thalleous had from his mortal injury.

Thalleous. His other father figure, his “uncle,” the invincible warrior who always persisted, who would fight the very end—

But he wasn’t invincible, was he.

A gentle touch on his injured shoulder drew him back to reality, back to the room on the floor beneath the window, beside his rocky friend. Sam had trotted over and given Senn’s wrappings a lick with his rough tongue.

“I think your bandage needs to be changed,” Abbigail pointed out in a gentle tone. Senn hadn’t noticed her enter the room, he supposed she had been cleaning up with Elaine. Guilt ripped at him with its sharp claws. Worthless, he was worthless. He should have been down there too, helping wash the gore away. But instead he sat on the floor in the corner of a room, avoiding the moonbeams as he clutched the pillow to his face, tighter and tighter until he could not breathe. Sam nuzzled him, licking his long, pointed ears as if trying to coax them into perking back up.

Needing oxygen, the Ardoni lifted his face from the pillow just in time to see Igneous vanishing down the stairs. He reappeared a moment later with fresh gauzes and a soothing balm that Abbigail rubbed into Senn’s shoulder, smelling of crushed herbs and a hint of lilacs. The craggy fingers of the Magnorite would only do more harm than good if they went poking around his wound.

With the smell of herbs tickling his nostrils instead of the reek of blood, the pillow’s comfort had become stifling, and he cast it aside. The clanless Ardoni itched to do _something_ , anything but stay here and wallow in his own grief.

He rose and allowed the girl and Magnorite to lead him back downstairs, back to the place he’d so desperately wanted to escape just minutes ago. Minutes, it had only been minutes. But they could have already taken Thalleous away, away to be buried, to be swallowed up by the dirt and never see the light of the stars again…

He was pushing past Abbigail and Igneous, descending the stairs to see Thalleous one final time, to say his goodbyes… no, he didn’t want to let go just yet. Who was he kidding?

The room was lit dimly by a sole lantern that rested on the nearest tabletop, the shadows making the room appear different enough that he needed a moment to get his bearings. Jalkar’s body had vanished and a rug had been dragged over the bloodstains for the time being, but the metallic stench still lingered faintly. Elaine sat on a chair facing the bed, her hands folded in her lap as she leaned forward slightly, watching.

His chest tightened and he looked to it. Thalleous remained there, his body so… still. Senn couldn’t wrench his gaze away, so he sought to distract himself by other means. His eyes were already welling up again.

“Elaine, I…” what was he going to say? Did he even have anything to say, or were words not enough? “Uh, what are you doing?” he finished lamely.

As if snapping out of a trance, the woman looked up and met his gaze for the first time since the three of them had re-entered. A small smile grew on her face. “He’s not dead.”

Senn blinked and his brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

The clanless Ardoni immediately looked over the champion’s body again, noticing things he’d missed at first glance. Even though his markings remained dark like the night, a faint tinge of blue had crept back in. All the blood on him had been rinsed off and his wound had been redressed and bandaged with clean white linen.

But most strikingly, his Mobilium and Aggressium Songs were nowhere to be seen. In that very moment, the Sendaris’s own words came back to him, _“When an Ardoni dies, their Songs are left behind.”_

Yet, Senn was drawn up short when fuzzy red lights seemed to collect around the Sendaris, hovering like motes of dust on the air that had minds of their own. Like a fine layer of snow, they drifted around him, bringing some color back into his skin and markings as the rise and fall of his chest became more evident.

He was breathing.

Elaine’s words began to sink in: Thalleous wasn’t dead after all.

The younger Ardoni’s voice was ragged as he lurched closer on numb legs. “How?”

In answer, she flicked an empty glass bottle nearby. “Potions, stronger than last time. They’re rather remarkable… can even coax someone back from the edge of death when combined just right.” She smiled and stood, offering Senn her chair.

“But I-I saw him, he stopped breathing and his—his markings were so dark…” he trailed off, sinking into the seat.

Elaine pursed her lips. “If you want to get technical, yes, I suppose you can say he... died. Yet the line between life and death is rather blurred at times.” She thought for a second, “Suffice it to say that with these potions and a bit of luck, I managed to resuscitate him. He’s tenacious!”

Senn wanted to agree but felt too drained to properly do so. He instead leaned on the champion’s bedside, resting his head on his arms. He would sit vigil here for the rest of the night, watching over the Sendaris.

Hours passed. Elaine continued to clean up and make attempts at conversation, then eventually retired to bed, allowing the clanless Ardoni to keep watch over Thalleous in her place. Abbigail had shouldered her bow, taken Sam, and left, looking a bit rattled. She had said that she needed to resume her hunt for the dragon egg, to find wherever the thief had hidden it and return it to Etherea, then go back to her home in Underwood. She tried to apologize, but Senn assured her that she’d already been very helpful and that she shouldn’t worry. He wished her luck and then she was gone just like that, vanishing into the night with her dog at her side.

He watched the door close, feeling his heart pang a bit. Though he hadn’t known her for long, she’d been good to him. Tiredly, he shifted his gaze from the door back to the bedridden Ardoni before him. Slowly, vitality trickled back into the Sendaris, his chest rising and falling in a more regular rhythm, the deep cloudy blues of his markings lightening to something just a bit darker than his usual azure. The sky had paled as well, shedding its layers of darkness like a bad dream, but Senn was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“As a Magnorite, I don’t need any sleep,” a familiar chipper voice suddenly piped up from behind him. “I can watch over him for you, Senn. I think it’s best if you get some shut-eye for now. You can count on me!”

“Thanks,” the youthful Ardoni mumbled, and his eyes slipped shut a moment later as his drowsiness overtook him.

* * *

The world was gauzy in its softness, made of gentle, warm colors and brimming with silence. It smelled of herbs, of balms and other homemade medicinal remedies that tickled at his nostrils.

His eyes fluttered open, allowing this serene world to seep in through his eyelashes. Where was he? Sick in bed as a child, recovering in that cottage, or… Elaine’s home.

His chest tightened. The ambush in Sendaria. Tygren Voltaris. Yes, he remembered, how could he forget? The pain from his wound was always present, the memory of that brush with death would be forever seared into his mind. As a matter of fact, he was a bit surprised that he hadn’t passed from this life.

The Sendaris still felt weak and exhausted, but his appetite had returned with a vengeance. In its hunger, his stomach seemed to gnaw on itself. On the other hand, his thirst, although uncomfortable, was tolerable. He wasn’t sure of the precise time but couldn’t have been out for long, it appeared to be early in the morning if he were to go off of the fog alone. The chilling fingers of mist that reached through the window to brush his exposed skin made him long for that beige blanket Senn had given him earlier, but it was nowhere to be found.

Thalleous opened his eyes the rest of the way, searching for the youth. Luckily, he didn’t need to look far. Senn sat in a chair at his bedside, slumped over the mattress with his head resting on his arms, his youthful face turned towards the Sendaris. Thalleous smiled at his expression, so blissfully serene in the young light.

“Ah, awake at last.” The healer smiled. He could only manage a vacant nod in reply. A salmon-hued shawl was wrapped around her shoulders, probably to ward off the morning’s chill that encroached from the shattered window. Thalleous felt a pang of guilt even though he hadn’t meant to damage her property. The table and chairs had been righted, only having acquired various dings and scrapes. The countertops were more sparse than he remembered them to be, he supposed he’d accidentally smashed quite a few bowls, jars, and other items when he’d unleashed his Aggroquake. His ears drooped, a sigh escaping his lips. He was already indebted to this wonderful woman for her trouble, now he’d gone and damaged her home.

Then an image surfaced from the murky delirium that had been the prior night, the memory of a face. A human had morphed into Tygren out of some madness spawned by the champion’s feverish mind and ailing body. But that was no excuse for his actions. He’d killed a man, he could see that now. Not Tygren, not even an Ardoni, just a lowly human thief. Yes, the man had harmed Senn, but in return Thalleous had taken his life. Now there was more blood to wash his hands of, but they never would truly be clean, would they? All the lives he had ended, enemies and innocents… they would follow him to his grave, to his day of reckoning.

The Sendaris squeezed his eyes shut, urging himself to breathe. He couldn’t do anything about it now, couldn’t change the past and correct his misdeeds. He pried his eyes back open and shakily reached out to the sleeping form of the clanless Ardoni. His rough fingers brushed Senn’s shoulder, tapping him lightly.

Elaine’s lips twisted into a light frown, “I’d tell you to leave him to rest, but he’ll want to see you. From what Igneous told me, he stayed up watching over you until the wee hours.”

Thalleous gave her a brittle smile. She and Senn both had big hearts full of compassion, that much was certain. The elder Ardoni touched the younger’s shoulder again, ruffling his whitish hair.

“Senn,” he croaked. Forget smooth, his voice sounded as if he’d made a habit out of gargling rocks.

Senn shifted and opened his eyes, immediately meeting Thalleous’s. He blinked uncomprehendingly, appearing too groggy to register much of anything at the moment. He rubbed at his eyes and the champion’s heart wrenched at the sight of faded tear streaks on his cheeks, at his bloodshot eyes that had circles and heavy lines under them from sleeplessness and stress. He no longer looked peaceful.

“Wha…” he asked, trailing off as he yawned.

But then the clanless Ardoni froze, his gaze sharpening as he focused on the Sendaris. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but the only thing that came out was a small choked sound. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around his uncle’s middle in the gentlest embrace he could manage, squeezing his eyes shut. Thalleous let out a sharp gasp, partly from pain but mostly out of surprise. Senn was avoiding his injury with great care, though, and the Sendaris felt his own expression soften into a tired grin. He embraced him back the best he could, given that the youth was hugging his abdomen as he lay flat on his back.

“Senn, are you all right?” Thalleous asked in a rusty voice.

Senn swallowed and tried again as he pulled away, white eyes wide in shock and his voice somewhat distant. “Yeah… are you—how are you doing?”

“Alive,” he smiled weakly, “but I admit, I am rather woozy and famished,” he replied, eyeing the loaf of bread Elaine had begun to slice on the kitchen counter.

Senn looked over to where she stood and mouthed a soundless “thank you.” She nodded, but her smile didn’t entirely reach her brown eyes.

“The potions should keep the pain manageable for the duration of your journey,” said the healer.

“Journey?” Senn asked, confused. “B-but we can’t leave, not when Thalleous is like this.”

“As much as I would like to argue,” the Sendaris coughed, “I have to agree with Senn.”

“I’m on your side,” she set down the knife and came over with a plate of bread, pork, and a tall glass of sparkling clear water. Thalleous could feel his mouth watering, but listened as she went on, “however, a mob of sorts came in last night, asking what all the fuss was about. They wanted to drag all of you out of here at that very moment, but I was fortunate enough to convince them otherwise.”

“Then why do we still have to leave?” Senn asked as she pulled a chair up to the bed and set the plate on it. Thalleous immediately reached over to grab some of the food and tore off a hunk of bread with his teeth.

She sighed and ran a hand through her frizzy mane of hair, “They demanded that you leave in the morning. Once you both have had something to eat, I can’t keep you here any longer.”

Senn took some of the bread as well, turning it over in his hands before he too tore off a piece and swallowed. “Thank you for everything, Elaine.”

Wincing, Thalleous pulled a lumpy bag out of his inventory and dropped it into her lap. “I am deeply sorry for all the trouble we have caused you, this is less than adequate compensation… gold cannot restore lives.”

The healer smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Please. There never is much to do around here, if anything, you made my life much more interesting.”

“I killed a man,” the Sendaris sighed heavily, looking out the shattered window to avoid her gaze.

“And he was going to kill me! I-I’m not saying he should have died, but…” Senn trailed off, at a sudden loss for words. He bit into his bread as his expression turned brooding.

“I’m not about to defend your actions,” Elaine began, “but you were not in your right mind. Cut yourself some slack or you’ll drive yourself crazy.” She laid a reassuring hand on the shoulder of the Sendaris, then stepped away. “Igneous?” She called up the stairs.

The Magnorite came down shortly, “Is everything okay? I can help if something’s wrong—”

The woman rubbed her hands together, “Things are better, but I thank you for offering. Now that the three of you are here and awake, I’ve got a bit to tell you before you leave. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

Igneous took a seat in another chair near the bed as the two Ardoni continued to eat, all three of them watching the healer. She procured a vial that held a liquid the color of blood. Thalleous blanched for a second, Senn giving him a concerned look.

The healer paused, lowering the vial as she looked over the Sendaris as if searching for a visible change in his condition. “Are you feeling unwell? I hope not… your fever broke last night, after all.”

He shook his head slowly, “I am fine, carry on.”

She didn’t press him, and raised the vial again, passing it to the injured Sendaris. “This is a dose of a potion of strength, it will help you on the road.”

The clanless Ardoni’s ears drooped somewhat, “That’s a really small amount, are you sure it’ll be enough to work?”

“I’m sure Elaine knows what she’s doing, Senn.” Igneous assured. “Just look at how much better he’s doing!”

She huffed in mild amusement as the champion downed it in a single gulp, “It’s a small dose, yes, but those kinds of potions are remarkably potent. Now,” she looked specifically to the Sendaris, who raised an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t be moving much at all, but right now, you don’t have much choice. I assume you three will be heading to Ataraxia?”

“Indeed,” Thalleous affirmed.

“Will you be meeting up with anyone who can help?” She asked, yet he remained silent. “If not, I suggest that you do. Stay off your feet as much as possible in the coming weeks, the potion of regeneration I gave you last night was powerful, but it’s not a cure-all. No heroics, just rest.” she said firmly. Thalleous had been expecting this—after all, he had some medical knowledge as a warrior—but it still brought a frown to his features.

“All right,” he huffed.

The healer hesitated for a second, then pulled something out of her inventory. It turned out to be a bright red cube of pulsing energy, the Song that the thief had dropped upon his demise last night. Senn cringed at the memory.

She offered it to him, “I admit that I don’t know much in the way of Songs, but perhaps this may be of some use to you.”

Senn grasped it and tucked it into his inventory before he could spare it a second glance. “Thanks.”

The healer smiled a bit sadly, “I wish you all the best of luck.” ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This chapter was quite the ride as well as the longest to date! And yes, I’m not through with Thalleous just yet—he is my favorite character, after all.
> 
> As I’m sure you saw, this illustration is different: I used the characters’ official Minecraft skins and rendered the scene in Blender, actually in Sendaria as stated in the chapter. However, I’m a noob at Blender and had to photoshop in all the FX (sword enchantment, rain, markings’ glow, motion blur, dramatic lighting, yeah). It was a fun challenge, and I might do more in the future to shake things up.
> 
> As always, you are a terrific audience, thank you for reading!


	12. Sinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/Content Warning: references to torture

The sun shot from the bottom of the sky all too quickly. In the morning light, they had helped Thalleous out of the bed and to his feet, draping his arms around Igneous and Senn’s shoulders with his sword firmly affixed to its usual place on his back. Elaine let them take the remaining bread and pork chops with them, and all too suddenly, they had said their goodbyes and now stood on the steps outside her house. The streets were veiled in the heavy morning fog, fading away into oblivion. Crisp and dewy, the air held a clean scent that refreshed the trio, untainted by the stench of blood and smoke. The only people in sight were those that watched warily from their own windows, often jerking their shutters closed at the sight of the small group.

Slowly, they made their way through the streets of Biggerton to the stables where they had left the chestnut stallion. Even with the potion’s aid, Thalleous was in no shape to be walking, he relied almost entirely on Igneous and Senn to keep himself upright.

The Magnorite was an endless spring of bubbly commentary. “I’m so happy that we have a horse! Not that Timber’s my horse, of course—we Magnorites can’t even ride horses. But I wouldn’t be riding him anyway, I don’t need to!” He quickly took a breath and looked to the Sendaris, “That reminds me, isn’t it uncomfortable to ride without a saddle?”

It took Thalleous a moment to realize that Igneous had paused in his jabbering and actually posed a question.

He thought for a moment, trying to remember what was asked. “A saddle… we Ardoni do not commonly put such things to use. Our skin is tougher than that of a human, and with proper training, the animal will listen to the very shift of your weight.”

“Fascinating…” murmured the Magnorite. The Sendaris let out a huff edged with annoyance as Igneous rambled on. They soon reached the stables where their horse waited, his liquid brown eyes watching their every move with anticipation. The clanless Ardoni slipped out from under the champion’s arm and approached the horse as the Magnorite led the Sendaris to a nearby hay bale.

“Timber! Hey, buddy.” Senn said, his ears perking up just like the animal’s. He stroked the stallion’s muzzle and worked the bit into his mouth as Thalleous sank down on the firm hay, letting out a heavy breath.

“Are you okay, uh, sir?” Igneous asked, fidgeting with his hands.

The champion snorted. “Thalleous will suffice, thank you. And yes… I am fine for the moment.” He glanced down at his bandage and let out another quiet sigh as the younger Ardoni brushed the animal to rid his coat of any abrasive dirt.

After leading the horse out of the stall, Senn helped Thalleous mount his steed and then did so himself. “I’m happy to leave this town,” remarked the clanless Ardoni as they began their journey at it’s edge. The elder Ardoni’s gaze was fixed upon the road ahead but Senn looked back at the buildings, only remembering a similar view as they had left Biggerton much like this not long ago.

The mist eventually swallowed up the town and Senn’s neck had begun to ache from its twisted position. The fog was unending, wrapping around the landscape like a heavy smoke. Was it really just a morning haze, or was it the fog left over from battle, from the smoke and carnage of the tragedy that had befallen Sendaria?

Thoughts of the fire consumed his mind, much as they had consumed his home. He could only think of the flames that had ravaged his village, of the Voltaris who had so mercilessly slaughtered his friends, his family. He had no idea if any of them were still alive, and feared for them all the same. Worry was a gnawing black pit in his stomach, a beast that curled around his heart and squeezed with its sharp tail until he swore the organ tore. What if he and Thalleous hadn’t made it out? They both could have died, left to be consumed by the ravenous flames.

It was all a walking nightmare, one that followed him and whispered into his ear, slipping through the webs of his thoughts. The voice hissed like grinning vipers, dripping poison into the young Ardoni’s mind.

_You could not save them._

_You were too late._

_Your home is gone. Ria is dead. Osivian is dead. The Voltaris will kill both you and Thalleous when they find you, and there is_ nothing _you can do about it._

He squeezed his eyes shut. Why? Why could they do this? _How_ could they do it? How could just a few sparks cause such a blaze of anguish?

Was this how Thalleous felt all the time? A weighty burden of regret ever-present on his shoulders? He didn’t know how anyone could live like that and stay sane. But then again, something had been off about the older Ardoni back in Biggerton.

Senn shook his head. The champion was the strongest, bravest, most adventurous person he’d ever known. He probably knew the secret to brush off anything… but… 

The clanless Ardoni glanced up at him. Thalleous’s gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, his expression stoic, wholly unreadable. Even though the Sendaris wasn’t normally anywhere near as talkative as Igneous, he had been uncharacteristically silent for the duration of their journey so far.

Senn’s insides still burned with questions, but he swallowed them. Thalleous was unwell, after all. That probably was the real explanation for his strange behavior of late, so maybe if Senn repeated that to himself often enough, he’d believe it wholeheartedly.

He’d seen the look in his eyes, though. There was something fundamentally wrong about it, so gnarled by hate. It wasn’t anything like the Thalleous he knew, the one who was like an uncle to him.

The minutes stretched on. The clanless Ardoni dismounted to ease Timber’s back, opting to walk beside Igneous.

“Thalleous?” Senn began when he couldn’t hold it in any longer, looking up. “What… what happened back there?”

The Sendaris looked down at him for the first time on their journey so far, his expression distant. “Pain is… something that festers into hatred and anger if you allow it to sit untouched for long.”

He swallowed his apprehension and confusion. “What does that mean?”

Thalleous opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and looked away. “I-I am far from perfect, Senn. I had only wanted to prevent harm from befalling you, but…” he shook his head, falling silent for a time.

“Better he than you,” the Sendaris said in almost a whisper. Senn looked down and they continued on the path, entombed in silence once more.

* * *

The fog descended like a shroud, a white sheet that thickened and billowed over the land, enveloping its inhabitants. Sharp rocks sometimes pierced it like strange, angular figures watching from afar. The rock formations made more frequent appearances until it was as if a giant beast lay with its serrated mouth open, ready to close its gray jaws around them.

Thalleous stopped Timber with little warning and the pair on the ground followed suit, but not without question.

Igneous squinted through the fog. “Is this Ataraxia? I sure don’t see anything other than some rocks here, some fog there…” he trailed off.

“We have reached the gateway to the Hidden City, as some call it.” Thalleous answered, and attempted to dismount his chestnut steed.

“Hey—be careful!” Senn exclaimed as the Sendaris slid off the horse’s back. His knees buckled beneath him and he gasped sharply. The younger Ardoni gingerly helped him back to his feet, the Sendaris having paled a couple shades. Timber whinnied nervously, his ears flicking as his eyes rolled in his head.

“Are you o—” Igneous was cut off as a bluish beam ensnared Senn, wires of light that constricted his limbs. Thalleous acted without thinking, careening forward in a blur of yellow energy to free him from the beam. His wound screamed when he slammed into the other Ardoni, but he paid it no heed because he felt his toes slipping against the gravel. He was sliding backwards and losing purchase, azure light swirling around his body.

Then his feet lost contact with the ground.

“Thalleous!” Senn shouted, reaching for him. The Sendaris opened his mouth to reply as he began to fall, to say some kind of assurance, but the water suddenly closed over his head.

Sinking. Momentarily stunned, he drifted into the depths of the river as his bandage began to unravel, his long hair billowing up around his face and obscuring his view.

Then he sputtered and blinked, righting himself and looking around through the flurries of bubbles which had escaped his mouth and nose. He could hear nothing but the rush of water, feel nothing but the liquid swirling around him and the thumping of his heart.

Then they arrived, examining him with their cycloptic orange eyes. Those orbs glittered with intelligence quite rare for mere animals, but of course, the fish were hardly “mere animals.” These blasted guardians were always too curious for his liking—they must have wanted to get a closer look at Senn through whatever means they saw fit. And Thalleous had acted on an impulse, seeing the guardians as a threat. The full truth of that remained to be seen.

All thoughts fled from his mind like a school of small fish beneath a large predator when a whitish guardian swam up, showing off purple spikes that were wickedly sharp. It hovered above Thalleous, the Sendaris having sunken to the center of what appeared to be a submerged shrine, made from prismarine that still somehow shone as if new.

The elder guardian’s lone eye lit up like the moon, blindingly bright. Thalleous squinted into the glare, already bracing himself. The creature had him trapped, and he knew that its power had been cast the moment Senn was ensnared in the guardian’s beam. Yet, the Sendaris had taken Senn’s place, so he drifted there, envisioning whatever trials awaited him as his lungs began to clamor for air.

He didn’t need to wait long. Though the guardian surely recognized him, he was powerless to resist as a mental spike twisted into his head. He sought to drive it away, to grab hold and thrust the creature’s presence from his consciousness, but he was too weak. Even if he had been at full strength, this was not an attack of the body, but of the mind. Such a thing could not be warded off with mere blows.

The spike grew branches that began to dig into his memories, to insert themselves firmly in his head and leech out every last detail.

As his memories were dredged up, Thalleous felt himself sinking into the depths of his past, splitting apart into the recesses of his consciousness that flickered like a dying flame.

_The clanless child stood shyly behind the champion, fiddling with a rough pebble in his small fingers. Thalleous ushered him out and faced his old friend with a warm smile._

_The other Sendaris gestured to a chair as he sank into one opposite the roaring fire that crackled in the stone hearth. “Please, seat yourself. It seems that we have much to discuss.”_

_Thalleous took a seat, the chair creaking as he did so. The clanless child sat at his feet, gazing up at his lined face with soulful white eyes that were large with youth and apprehension. “Tally?” he squeaked nervously, gripping the stone tighter._

_“Hush, little one. All will be well…” the champion trailed off._

_“Firstly, whose child might that be?” The other Sendaris inquired, his brow raised in interest._

_He scratched his head. “I… found him alone in my travels. We have since crossed all the Ardoni territories, and yet no one will take in a clanless child. Now I sit before you, Osivian, to ask this: Will you accept this child into your life? For he has nowhere else to go.” Thalleous let out a soft, almost defeated sigh._

_Osivian crossed his arms. “Can you not rear him yourself? After all, you seem to have been doing well thus far.”_

_The champion smiled wanly. “I do not have the skills nor the means to raise a child myself, especially with the life I lead.”_

_The other Sendaris shifted in his chair and thought for a long moment, examining the child beneath an impassive stare. Eventually, he spoke, “Do you have a name, young one?”_

_The child’s brow furrowed and he sullenly shook his head._

_Osivian uncrossed his arms and beckoned the clanless Ardoni, who approached hesitantly. “Though you may not share our blood, we are Sendaris. My family and I will be pleased to welcome our new addition… Senn.”_

_Thalleous’s face broke into a smile that shone through his weariness. “A fine name. Is it after the clan?”_

_Osivian nodded, sparing the champion a glance. “I will have my sons prepare a room for you before I acquaint them with their new brother. You look exhausted.”_

_“I do not sleep much these days, but I thank you for your hospitality.”_

_Osivian shrugged, already leading the child away. “Suit yourself. Know that you may rest easy as long as you are here, I bid you goodnight.”_

_“Goodnight, old friend.” Thalleous watched the pair go out into the dusky night, Senn was stumbling in his tiredness. Osivian stopped for a moment to pull the child into his arms, then continued to walk towards another dwelling among blinking fireflies. The clanless child’s eyes, while droopy, never left Thalleous’s own and he gave a small wave before they turned out of sight._

_The memory splintered and distorted in a whirlwind of color and noise until it focused into a single voice not unlike his own._

_“You come after we have not seen each other for years, asking me to take in a child who appeared out of thin air?” His brother huffed, dousing the iron head of a pickaxe in brine. His blue eyes cut through the cloud of steam that hissed from the cauldron, a shade darker than the champion’s own._

_“I cannot take care of him myself, you know that.” Thalleous’s frown deepened and he glanced at the child in question._

_Galleous sighed and removed the head of the pick from the cauldron, inspecting it for imperfections with a trained eye. “Where did you even manage to_ find _him? I should think that a warrior would have no business allowing a mere babe to follow him around like a dog begging for scraps.”_

 _Anger bubbled up in his throat but the champion pushed it down with no small effort. “This child’s family was slaughtered in the Nether—_ that _is where I discovered him.”_

_His brother stopped, setting the tool’s head down on a workbench. “You must be lying. All the portals have been sealed for decades.”_

_“Then tell me,” Thalleous snarled as he turned his back to his brother and raised his long hair, unfixing his greatsword, “how I managed to acquire these!”_

_Galleous took a step back and sank down onto a stool, gripping the head of the anvil in his shock. Ropy scars knotted their way across his twin’s back, all of which had healed but had not yet begun to fade with the passage of time. Burns crisscrossed them like lightning bolts, born of electricity._

_“Had I not rescued this child, the same fate or worse may have befallen him.” He said in a low tone, letting his hair fall to conceal his disfigurement._

_“Take him elsewhere. I cannot raise a child any more than you can—”_

_“Nonsense, brother.”_

_Galleous gave him an icy look. “Oh, so I become your brother again in your time of need.” His lip curled in disgust._

_The champion’s face burned, but with what, he didn’t know. Anger? Shame? Grief? “Galleous, I—”_

_“Get out of my home and do not return. I thought we made that clear the last time.”_

_“Do not—!”_

_The unfinished pickaxe flew by Thalleous’s head and clanged against the wall. “GET. OUT!” His twin snarled through gritted teeth. “Get out before you make matters worse!”_

_Thalleous beckoned the child out of his hiding place and left without a word, silently fuming. He knew it had been a mistake to come to Ataraxia, a mistake to attempt to reach out to that man of all people. Was he trying to somehow reconcile with him? It was pure folly: They were not brothers, had not been for many years. Nothing would change that._

_He fell through the ground and into another eclectic transition between memories, the spike in his mind growing more painful as it worked deeper into his past._

No.

Not that one!

_Yet his mental pleas fell on deaf ears as he was dragged into it, helpless to resist._

_He laid prostrate on a coarse bed, his raw back open to the air. He did not know where he was, did not know if he were safe. A voice spoke above him and he lashed out, fists and feet flailing. Hands tried to pin him to the bed, but his skin was slippery with blood and sweat and even in his own weakened state, he was muscular. Blindly, the champion managed to throw them off, but before he could attempt to rise, a sharp blow to the head sent his consciousness tumbling away._

_The memories were coming faster now, hurling and bashing themselves at the gates of his mind as if possessed, clawing to break through._

_“Come,” the Sendaris urged, his breathing labored with pain. He stumbled out of the blistering heat and into a dense forest full of lurking shadows. Hot blood dribbled down his back as the lacerations stretched and screamed at him, clawing for his attention. The clanless child screamed as well at the sight, his sobs and cries growing louder. If he could find any sign of civilization, any at all, they might have a chance…_

_He thought he may have glimpsed a path through the trees, but before he could gain a better view, the ground flew up to meet him and all became black._

_The spike’s branches seemed almost gleeful in their pursuit of knowledge, to tear further into the mind of the Ardoni, to shatter his final refuge._

Was this his punishment for returning?

_The Sendaris stood in open-mouthed shock at the sight of the small child sobbing quietly in a sheltered corner of the room, out of sight from all angles but this one._

_Walking forward as if in a dream, a nightmare of agony and fire, he asked the air, “Whose child is this?”_

_A moment later, he had his answer. Ardoni corpses with the same pattern of markings were scattered over the floor, their blood still fresh like his own. He could feel it trickling down his back from his many wounds, felt the ache of his broken nose and every single bit of pain in his battered body._

_Yet he pressed on and coaxed the child from his hiding place. The whole scene was surreal, it dredged up memories from his own past of a night spent not in fire, but in snow, when his own family was slaughtered._

_“I swear,” he croaked, taking the hand of the child, “I will guard you with my life so you may not travel the same path I have. I will find you a true home, and when you are older, I will tell you of this night…”_

_The spike eased its pressure as if knowing the Ardoni’s mind had begun to splinter beneath the strain. Thalleous only had enough time to cling to his core before he was pulled under once more._

_He was still sinking._

_The Nestoris gave him a sad smile and laid a hand on his shoulder in the dawning light, but it was muted beneath the shadow of Mt. Velgrin. “I must confess… I do not want to fight another, this War has already gone on for far too long. At this rate, we may very well wipe ourselves out.”_

_The champion’s fingers tightened around his greatsword. “They have massacred our people and slaughtered my family. I would be happy to see them eradicated.”_

_Achillean sighed. “Which is why today, I shall fight the Deathsinger alone atop that peak.” He pointed to the tip of Mt. Velgrin with his poleam. “I do not seek revenge, only to put an end to the nightmares this War has created.”_

_Thalleous met his golden gaze. “If you succeed, you will rid Ardonia of a great evil.”_

_The Tidesinger’s eyes were pools of sorrow. “My dear friend, I wish that you’re wrong.”_

_The scene blurred and broke into pieces that turned into a mess of memories, shattered recollections of a time he wished he could wholly forget. Cutting through foes in his wrath, wielding his greatsword and the Aggressium Prime with no mercy. He was the chosen champion, and the Voltaris were murderers._

_Blood pooled around his toes, splattering his face and chest as screams and war cries rent the air._

_He would not stop._

_He could not stop._

_They had to die._

_Every. Last. One._

_The blood choked him until his vision darkened, but then he was in a new place, underground at the edge of Northwind. Many Ardoni watched from a safe distance, including all four clan masters._

_A horn sounded, signaling the beginning of the tournament. All his training had culminated to this single moment, he would not lose._

_Thalleous drew his sword and launched into battle against the other contenders, two Nestoris and two Kaltaris. One Nestoris was defeated quickly, yet the other was unparalleled in his skill with his sword and staff._

_Their blades met in a flurry of movement nearly too fast for the eye to follow. Metallic clashes rang out, Thalleous wasn’t able to use his Songs as he was put on the defensive against this Nestoris. He grinned at the Sendaris, twisting and slashing with a cunning precision. Yet Thalleous was persistent, dodging and blocking each attack in a powerful, deadly dance. The two other contenders had paused to watch, to see which of the pair would come out on top._

_But then the Nestoris found an opening to block his sword, and with an expert twist, wrenched it from his grasp. Then in a fluid motion, he knocked him down with the butt of his staff._

_Stunned, Thalleous fell to the ground, defeated._

_The Sendaris was too ashamed and angry to pay proper attention to whatever happened next. He retrieved his blade and returned it to its place on his back, stalking away with his gaze lowered. Once he was mostly out of sight, he continued to watch the battle from a distance as he mentally berated himself. He had been so close!_

_The Nestoris made quick work of the other Kaltaris. He blasted the final one with a burst of an Aggressium Song, and it was over. He would be presented with the Primes, yet… he stopped and raised his staff high into the air. Its blades slid out into a recognizable design as his markings changed to an unmistakable vermilion, the color of the most loathed clan of all._

_“Voltaris,” Thalleous spat as whispers and exclamations of shock erupted from the masses. This Ardoni bore Voltar, which only meant one thing. He was the master of the dreaded Voltaris clan._

_Thalleous silently pledged to kill him._

_Then his rage focused into another moment, another memory. Was it the guardian’s doing at this point, or his own?_

_“Why? Why do you pursue this madness?!” Galleous burst out, his face stinging with betrayal. “There is a war coming, and you want to be its_ champion _, of all things!”_

_“I will do what I must for the good of Ardonia!”_

_“The good of Ardonia! Bah! At least reconsider your use of Songs.” His twin bit his lip, “They may very well lead you to an early grave, is that truly a path you are willing to take? Why, why must you use them?” He paused, then added in an undertone, “I cannot lose the last of my family.”_

_Spittle flew from Thalleous’s mouth, he’d ignored that final remark. “Because it is our unique ability to harness their power. To deny their usage is to deny the very thing that makes us Ardoni!” He punched the wall in his anger and his Aggroquake activated, flinging objects to and fro to make his point even clearer._

_Yet Galleous stood firm. “Do you have no sense of morals or self-preservation, brother? How can you speak of the ‘good of Ardonia’, yet go out and kill like the Voltaris do?!”_

_Thalleous stood there, chest heaving as he glared daggers at his twin. “You stand idly in your workshop and preach of peace, of unity among the clans! Yet you have not seen their atrocities as I have!”_

_Galleous picked at a bit of metal with his tongs, then stoked the fire. “You are the one who is deluded, brother—blinded by your own quest for vengeance for wrongs that happened so long ago.”_

_“So I am just supposed to forgive and forget? Forget every evil act of that wretched clan?”_

_“Our clan,” Galleous said quietly._

_“_ Our _clan?! No, I do not care that their blood runs in my veins, I will never accept it! I am not Voltaris!” Thalleous shouted, his fists balled._

_Galleous stepped up to him, “Yes you are, and so am I! How can you hunt your own people?”_

_“How can you not, after what they did to our parents! Our brother and sister! They are_ murderers _!”_

_“AND SO ARE YOU!” Galleous roared back at him. “NO MATTER THE COLOR OF OUR MARKINGS, WE ARE VOLTARIS, BROTHER!”_

_“THEN I,” Thalleous bellowed, his face twisted in rage, “AM NOT YOUR BROTHER!”_

_His twin recoiled as if struck. Eyes glistening, he looked down and heaved in a breath. “Then go, for I am ashamed to be related to a deluded murderer.”_

_Thalleous opened his mouth as if to retort, but his throat had run dry._

_“What are you waiting for?!” Galleous barked, shoving him. His passive, often quiet twin was unrecognizable._

_Or was it he who had changed?_

_“GET OUT, NEVER RETURN!” The other Sendaris hollered, the cords in his neck bunching as he yelled his throat raw._

_Tears began to cascade down Thalleous’s face and he whirled away, breaking into a run down the path, only thinking to distance himself from what he had done._

_He tripped and fell into another memory, nearly begging the guardian to cease._

_Instead, he was met with the fading markings of his first kill. Eyes so wide with abject terror until they froze in death, gazing sightlessly forevermore. His hair fluttered loosely in the wind, he had barely reached adulthood. Had he meant Thalleous any true harm? He looked like he’d been hunting for game, going off of the waterskin at his waist and some spilled berries, his stiff fingers still resting on his bow._

_If he hadn’t been Voltaris, the Sendaris would never have slashed his throat._

_Would a family go hungry tonight, wondering forevermore why their son hadn’t returned?_

_His greatsword slipped from his grasp, his hands were shaking badly. He stumbled away but only made it a few paces before he was on his knees, fighting for air._

_Was this really the path he would take?_

_Thoughts of his family quickly banished all doubts from his mind. He remembered playing in the snow with his brothers and sister while his parents watched fondly._

_Then their blood pooling in the snow by their Songs._

_He slowly rose and grabbed his sword, its edge still glistening red. So be it. If this were what he was to become, then it was necessary._

_So be it._

No more, _Thalleous panted in his thoughts, but the elder guardian was merciless._

_He stood on a hill, his new sword slung over his back as he looked over his shoulder at the land he was about to leave behind. Sendaria._

_His adoptive family watched alongside Galleous. The Sendaris was youthful and bright-eyed, about to set foot into a world full of adventures, at least, so he thought. He scuffed his foot in the dirt, wondering how he’d say his goodbyes._

_Thalleous looked up as his father approached him and set both hands on his shoulders, staring him square in the eyes. “You have much yet to see of this world, it is quite vast. Yet you always need an anchor, my son, so know that Sendaria is your home. Here, you will always have a place to return to.” He smiled sadly, his blue eyes like a calm ocean._

_Thalleous blinked and shifted his weight, his pack seemed to weigh more heavily on his back. His new diamond sword was tied to it, his most prized possession. It made him feel safe and secure._

_“I know,” he replied softly, but the words felt hollow._

_His dad’s warm arms gathered him up into a hug that felt more like a goodbye than words ever could. “Though you are not my son by blood, I could not be more proud to call you my own. Travel safely to Kaltaria.”_

_“Follow the roads,” his mother urged. She and Galleous had approached to give him a send-off._

_His twin raised his right hand. Confused, Thalleous stared at it, then tentatively raised his own._

_“You mirrored me,” he smirked. Thalleous immediately dropped his arm, huffing wryly. “We’re reflections of each other. We look the same, but are opposites. You’re driven to go, I will stay. You want to fight, I intend to keep the peace.” He swallowed. “But brother, no matter our differences…”_

_Thalleous embraced him. “You’re so sappy,” he muttered into his shoulder, hiding his grin and tears._

_“I’ll always love you. Come back soon.”_

_He pulled away and punched his twin’s shoulder lightly. “I haven’t even left yet. And I love you too.”_

_Galleous answered with a wave, standing with his mother and father once more. Thalleous turned away and walked into the horizon, glancing back again and again until his family was out of sight._

_The world dissolved and reformed into a forge in Sendaria. The diamond greatsword was a thing of beauty, sparking against the grindstone. Galleous let the wheel spin to a stop and lifted the weapon, now sharp enough to slice hair. He smiled proudly at his newest creation and set it on top of an empty workbench for them to admire. Thalleous ran his fingers down the center of its blade, able to clearly see his own awestruck reflection in it._

_“Thank you,” he breathed._

_His twin nodded. “What will you call it?”_

_Thalleous’s fingers slid to its grip and he lifted the sword, letting its blade catch the firelight. “I’ve thought of a few names, but managed to settle on one.”_

_“And that would be…?”_

_He raised it reverently. “Reckoning.”_

_Galleous was quiet for a time as he leaned back. “I used all I’ve learned to craft that blade, I hope I don’t regret it one day.”_

_Thalleous surrendered his will to the elder guardian. He could bear this no longer…_

_He was a child, standing at a cluster of graves. He had not moved in hours, his fists clenched so tightly that they had cramped and would not open. He loathed the Voltaris with every fiber of his being, with every drop of scarlet blood in his veins._

_He was not one of them._

_They were murderers._

_Killers._

_His family was dead because of them._

_Then it dawned on him… he could kill their families, too._

NO! _He screamed in his mind, or possibly out loud. But he was still sinking, drowning under these memories. Would the tide ever end?_

 _He stood in the center of a shrine, head held high with his chest puffed out. His entire body was filled with anxiety and excitement. This was it, after hours, nay,_ days _of trembling in anticipation, the moment was finally here. He clasped his tiny hands together and stood as tall as he could, rising into the balls of his feet._

_The clan master slowly cast her gaze around the group that had gathered, her sky-blue markings rippling in the morning light. “Does anyone hold any objections to the Induction of this child? Speak now.”_

_Thalleous’s heart hammered at his rib cage and he wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs. But after a minute passed with no objections, he allowed himself a breath of relief as the master turned back to him, bearing the staff of the clan, Sendar._

_“Thalleous,” she began, touching her strong fingers to his forehead, just above his eyes.. “Today is the day when you will shine anew. Are you prepared?”_

_“I am!” he squeaked._

_Her eyes sparkled and she lowered her arm. “Then kneel and accept.”_

_Thalleous got to his knees but watched her every move with growing anticipation. This was it._

_She touched the center of Sendar to his head, pressing down his fluffy hair. A sensation like ice surged from the point of contact through his head and to every portion of his body. Amazed, he stared at his chest and arms as his markings took on a hue as pure as the sky itself, as clear as a glacial lake._

_She stepped back. “Rise, Thalleous Sendaris, and hold yourself proudly, for you are now one of us. There will be a feast tonight!”_

_The crowd cheered and clapped, surging toward him to offer the child their congratulations and well-wishes._

_Thalleous was swept away on the noise and into another memory, one of his earliest. The cacophony had faded to the sizzles and pops of a fire._

_They had been taken by the two adult Sendaris out of Northwind and to a place Thalleous assumed was Sendaria. At the moment, he didn’t care. He was swaddled in blankets right up next to his twin, both of them laying on mats before a cherry-red fire that shared its warmth generously. Hungry and exhausted, the pair had gorged themselves until their bellies were round and they almost felt sick. The winter in Northwind had been harsh, food had often been scarce when they were on the run with their family._

_Close to sleep as he was, Thalleous’s eyes began to burn. He and his twin were all that remained of that family now. He was so scared that Galleous would be taken from him too. Life was cruel, that much he knew. The child shifted closer to his brother, who moaned as he woke._

_“Gally?”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Please don’t go anywhere.” Thalleous whimpered._

_He pulled his blankets tighter. “I won’t, I promise.”_

_“Good.”_

_Content silence cocooned the pair. They were safe, fed, and warm for the foreseeable future. Maybe life could stay like this, that would be fine. This could be their home, here in Sendaria._

_“I won’t ever forget this,” Galleous murmured._

_Thalleous smiled._

_“Me either.”_

* * *

Senn was on his knees, staring at the spot in the river where Thalleous had been dragged under, still stunned.

“Hey, do you see that?” Igneous asked excitedly, pointing. Senn followed his finger to see a shadow rising rapidly from the depths until it broke the surface.

It was Thalleous, semiconscious and gasping for air, alive. The clanless Ardoni would have swum out to him, but the same bluish light that had pulled him under now pushed him gently to shore. Igneous and Senn pulled him out the best they could without exacerbating his injury. His head lolled, eyes fluttering as water streamed off his frame. He looked fragile, nearly broken. 

“What happened?” The Magnorite asked worriedly.

“I-I don’t…” Senn trailed off as the Sendaris hacked up water and rubbed at his face, his eyes brightening. “Your hands are shaking.”

For a fraction of a second, Thalleous looked as though he were about to snap at the younger Ardoni, but deflated and looked to the water.

“We must go. They—” he broke off and coughed again, “they granted us passage to Ataraxia.”

At his words, a bridge floated up from the depths to span the entire river. He and Senn mounted the stallion, continuing on. For once, Igenous was silent. The entire world was silent.

As they passed, an immense milky-eyed guardian watched the trio from just beneath the water, observing. Judging. The only sound was the clopping of Timber’s unshod hooves against the aquamarine stone, slick with water. Then the massive white guardian swam away, as if it had other matters to attend to. The finned tip of its tail was the final thing the clanless Ardoni saw, then it disappeared entirely, sinking into the depths and leaving him burning with a single question.

_What just happened?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Now you see why I am not done with Thalleous… and this is just the tip of the iceberg.  
> As always, thank you for reading! You all are wonderful.


	13. Floating

**(For the “full experience” of chapter 13, listen to** [ **“Environments”** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0y_KKcQhqg) **by Berlinist)**

* * *

The trio traveled up the switchbacks, both Senn and Thalleous riding Timber while Igneous walked alongside them. A gentle wind ruffled their hair as the chestnut stallion ambled up the path. Thalleous had wrung his own out and pulled it into a braid shot through with silver that went down his back, effectively keeping it away from his wound and out of his eyes. Senn had just tried to brush his whitish-blond fluff out of his face and leaned forward, wishing to pick up the pace but not to cause the injured Ardoni discomfort.

The animal’s rhythmic hoofbeats were the only sound for a long time. The clanless Ardoni had so many questions to ask his elder, especially concerning what had just transpired, but he held his tongue. They would have to wait. Even with the aid of the strength potion, Thalleous was still visibly exhausted; it was evident in the way his shoulders and head slumped when he thought no one was looking. Senn would have felt horrible if he somehow worsened his condition.

“What are we looking for in Ataraxia?” the Magnorite asked, looking to the Sendaris as the silence shattered.

His reply was only vague, terse. “Oh, you will see when we get there.”

And so they continued onwards, beginning to see the signs of civilization emerging from the curtains of fog. The path broadened and grew more well-worn as shops and homes emerged from behind large rocks and acacia trees, crafted from wood and stone in such a way that they often melded with nature. A gaggle of Ardoni children of various clans ran past them and into the brush, giggling as a nearby Sendaris spilled an armful of melons.

“Oh, let me help you!” Igneous hurried over and grabbed some of the green fruits off the ground, handing them back to him.

The corners of his youthful eyes crinkled. “Thanks.” He blinked in surprise, however, when he noticed the Magnorite’s companions. “Thalleous Sendaris, do my eyes deceive me?”

The champion gave him a brittle smile, “It’s been too long, Antares. Last I remember, you were just a child.”

The young adult hefted the melons and caught one before it could slip out of his grasp, fixing him with a curious look, “Might I ask why you have returned to Ataraxia after all this time?”

His expression darkened. “That is a tale best told another time.”

“Well then,” Antares gave the elder a sideways glance as his eyes fell onto the thick bandages and gauzes wrapped around his torso, still sodden and loose from the river. “I’m sure many others here will be just as curious to hear it as I am.”

Thalleous sighed, but before he could say anything, Igneous cut in. “Oh, they were att—”

“We should get going, Igneous.” Senn cut in as he felt the other Ardoni’s grip slacken slightly. The potion of strength would be wearing off soon, he knew.

“Oh, you’re right. It was nice meeting you, Antares.” He waved to the Sendaris, who attempted to wave back but only spilled his melons again.

Senn couldn’t really bring himself to laugh and only shook his head. Glancing back at the older Sendaris behind him, he asked, “How are you holding up?”

“Never better,” Thalleous said, though his teeth were gritted and Senn could see beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead.

“Igneous?” The clanless Ardoni looked down at him, anxious to get to their destination, whatever it may be. “Do you see any stables nearby?”

The Magnorite cast his gaze about, “Oh, I don’t—wait, there!” he pointed off down the path to their left, where some stalls were situated beneath a grand birch tree and surrounded by wildflowers. The clanless Ardoni steered Timber over to them and dismounted, taking the horse’s bit out of his mouth and tying him to one of the posts that made up the corners of the stall.

“Thalleous?” he faced the other Ardoni who already had one leg off of the stallion. He landed on his feet with a dull  _ thud _ and grunted, staggering into a post. 

Igneous and Senn were at his side in an instant, putting his arms over their shoulders.

“Let us help you,” the Magnorite smiled reassuringly, yet the Sendaris only dropped his head, weakly trying to shrug off their support, but gave up in that attempt almost immediately.

He sighed, “If you must insist…”

“Thalleous? Is that you… is everything alright?” A Kaltaris approached them from the dense fog as they left the horse’s stall.

Pleased to have a distraction, the Sendaris raised his head. “Zulius? I will be fine, old friend. It’s good to see you.”

“You as well, but dark times are these that lie ahead.” His expression grew grim, the hard line of his jaw clenching. “You were right about the return of the Voltaris after all—the clans were fools not to listen.”

“None will escape unscathed,” the champion said hollowly and touched his bandages, “that much is certain.”

“Speaking of, what put you in this state?” He asked, looking the injured Sendaris up and down.

The champion nodded to the clanless Ardoni, “Senn and I had returned to Sendaria only to find the central village aflame. It was the work of the Voltaris, a-as was my injury.”

The Kaltaris’s expression fell into shadow. “They were quite thorough: A village from each clan was reduced to ashes. There have been no survivors.” he said grimly.

“Ria… Osivian…” Senn felt as though he had been struck. Thalleous dropped his gaze. 

“There has to be some good in this,” Igneous began, “are you sure there weren’t any survivors?” 

Zulius let out a huff. “None to my knowledge, I’m afraid. I do not know of Ria, but I recognize the name Osivian. He was… found in Sendaria, covered in burns and gashes. I am sorry.”

Senn took in a breath and shakily let it out as he clenched his fists. He had to be strong, if not for his sake, then for Thalleous’s. They all needed to support each other.

As much as he had hoped otherwise… he had seen the carnage of their village for himself, had seen the bodies—albeit from a distance. He knew Osivian had laid among them, his brothers, and possibly Ria as well—

Something stirred behind the walls forming around his heart at the notion that even though Zulius had not known Ria, perhaps her body hadn’t been found. So maybe she was still out there somewhere, alive… 

A rocky hand waved in front of his face. Senn blinked. “You kinda, uh, zoned out for a second there.” said the Magnorite.

“We have to look for the others! They might still be alive!” Beginning to feel renewed hope, he looked to Thalleous, white eyes burning with determination. 

The Sendaris slowly met his gaze and shook his head, azure eyes somber and sorrowful. “As much as I wish to locate any survivors, I cannot do so in this state. And—” he took a breath but it hitched and he fell into a bout of coughing, doubling over. Small drops of blood fell from his mouth to the ground.

“O-oh no, oh no…” Igneous trailed off as Zulius put a hand on the champion’s back, under his greatsword. But Senn froze, unable to do anything. Thalleous was dying all over again and the clanless Ardoni was paralyzed. What could he do to stop this—there had to be something—but he couldn’t move, struggling to breathe as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Easy,” The Kaltaris advised, his brow creased. How could he be so—so  _ collected _ when Thalleous was dying?

But the Sendaris wiped his mouth and straightened up, spitting a red glob away. “I… must have bitten my tongue in the river.” 

The Magnorite gave him a sympathetic look, offering his arm for support once more. “That’s too bad, but you really had us all worried! Your wound could have reopened with all this strain, are you sure—” 

“I am fine for the moment,” the champion assured Igneous as he brushed Zulius off, nodding his thanks.

Troubled, Senn noticed that Thalleous’s brow shone with sweat, and while he tried to downplay it, his legs were shaking. From where he supported him, the clanless Ardoni could feel how his tough gray skin was hot and sticky to the touch. He would have blamed it on the humidity had he not known better. But it was painfully clear that the other Ardoni’s fever had returned, the potion’s effects having visibly dwindled since the start of their journey from Biggerton. The fiery dull claws of illness curved the older Ardoni’s shoulders forward and pulled his breaths from his chest like heavy weights.

The Kaltaris opened his mouth, but Senn stopped him. “Zulius Kaltaris, sir? I’m sorry to, uh, cut you off, but we all need to rest someplace. We had traveled far to get here.”

Zulius shook his head slightly at the Sendaris, but it bore no ill will. “All right, then.” He turned away, but stopped as another thought seemed to strike him. “And Thalleous?” he glanced back, “Don’t let your stubbornness or that old rivalry get in the way of your recovery.”

The champion frowned but said nothing.

The Kaltaris took a breath, “I’ll stop by his place tomorrow and we can all discuss what has transpired recently. Under the call from Master Aurelius, I am rallying together Ardoni warriors to stage an attack on Mt. Velgrin within a fortnight.”

Thalleous’s eyes narrowed. “Then the war is truly upon us.”

“So it seems.” Zulius turned and began to walk away, but then stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Get some rest, you look like you could use it.” With nothing more to say, he then strode off with a wave.

Several seconds passed in which no one spoke.

“Well, that was a bit weird,” Igneous stated finally, then looked to the Sendaris. “What’s all this about another war?”

“Follow the main road,” the older Ardoni winced, “we’ll enter the first doorway.” he muttered something about regretting this but Senn couldn’t catch its entirety. At this point, he was too frazzled to care, so in some silent agreement, the clanless Ardoni and Magnorite opted not to press their injured companion. They all could use a place to rest and process everything that had happened. 

By the time they had crossed numerous bridges and reached the stone steps to the said doorway, however, he seemed to have changed his mind. Thalleous stopped short and pulled himself from their support, turning away as he took a deep breath and looked around. “This will never work. There are oth—”

“Thalleous?” a voice asked from within, and its owner emerged. He was an identical copy of the Sendaris, save for being a bit on the heavier side and having markings a few shades darker than the champion’s own. His hair was far shorter as well, just brushing his shoulders and adorned with a tan few beads that clicked together in the humid breeze. His strong jaw was set, fixing them all with a gaze as cool as his markings’ color, yet seemed to thinly veil immense surprise and… anger?

The younger Ardoni was speechless as Thalleous grimaced and faced him, but not, Senn thought, from the pain of his wound. “It has been some time, Galleous. I-I…” his gaze fell, “we need your aid.”

The other Sendaris eyed him icily, eyes focusing on the bandages around his torso. “It has. What sort of fix have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“That is a conversation best saved for indoors,” he turned and began to ascend the front steps, but lurched forward and would have fallen had it not been for Senn and Igneous, who quickly supported him. Blood drained from his face. His brother took a few steps closer, reaching out an arm as if wanting to help, but then seemed to realize what he had done and stiffly stepped back, pasting an apathetic expression onto his face.

“Is it too much to ask that we may enter?” the injured Ardoni heaved a sigh, looking like death warmed over.

Galleous’s expression was hesitant, almost angry for a moment, but he took a breath and ushered the trio forward. “Come, there are chairs inside.”

* * *

The three of them had sunken into empty seats and listlessly watched the weather outside. It had picked up from just mist and fog to a light drizzle, the small raindrops pattering against the wet stones on the ground. All the humidity even made Senn’s rough skin feel sticky, and a few tendrils of his whitish-blond hair clung to his forehead.

He looked to Thalleous, who was staring down at his sword on the floor and watching the enchantment flicker down its length with disinterest. “I didn’t know you had any surviving brothers.”

“Last I recall,” the other Sendaris—Galleous—began before Thalleous could say anything, “I am not your brother, and you were not to return here ever again.”

Igneous fidgeted. “You’re family, you shouldn’t leave each other out to dry.”

The withering looks the Magnorite received were enough to silence him immediately.

Galleous went on, his twin looking almost too exhausted to attempt to form a reply. “You put me in quite a difficult position. I cannot in good conscience let an Ardoni die, not when our species’ population is already small.” He paused and crossed his arms, appearing to mull over what he was about to say next. “You may remain here and rest for the time being. But once you have recovered enough to travel, leave and do not return. I will not be so generous next time, but I pray that time will never come.” Then the kettle on his stovetop let out a shrill squeal and he turned away, attending to it. 

Thalleous said nothing and nor did Igneous or Senn, a tense silence stretching over the room. Having nothing better to do, they watched Galleous prepare drinks for them. He worked in silence, slicing up apples and grabbing miscellaneous spices. He reached into a hard-to-see cupboard and drew out what appeared to be an apple… except it was golden and gleamed as if metallic. He cut it up carefully and then dumped all the pieces into a pan of water where they simmered for a bit, then ground them up and poured the mixture into mugs. A sweet aroma filled the room, lulling in its warmth.

The Sendaris came over and set a steaming ceramic mug on the worn table in front of Senn.

“Thank you… what is it?” the clanless Ardoni asked, staring into the orangish-brown drink. The steam had a pleasant aroma to it, smelling of apples and a hint of ginger.

“Apple cider. Best you drink up while it’s warm.”

“Thank you, sir.” Senn smiled and raised it to his lips, taking a sip.

The Sendaris nodded and passed by Igneous—apparently he knew Magnorites didn’t need to drink, and approached his brother. Thalleous watched warily as Galleous held out another mug, small wisps of steam curling from it.

“Here,” he said cooly, looking as though he’d rather pour it over his twin than hand it to him.

Thalleous took hold of it slowly, never rising from the chair as he looked the other Sendaris up and down with evident disdain, particularly his midsection. “You’re fatter than I remember.”

“And you are half-dead and clearly not thinking straight.” Galleous said icily, his lips thinning. “However, now is not the time to be petty.” Galleous took a seat opposite his twin, folding his arms over his chest. “Now that we are settled, what sort of events brought you all here? If I am to play the host, some explaining is very much in order.”

The champion was about to explain but Igneous beat him to it. “Just rest, sir. Senn told me what had happened, after all, so I can explain without a problem.”

“Then go ahead,” Galleous motioned for him to speak.

Igneous began to tell of how the village had been attacked, with Senn adding details every so often. It was painful to relive, but somehow didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would when the Magnorite was the one telling it. He explained how he had met Senn on the road to Biggerton, the ambush by the thief, meeting Abbigail, finding Elaine’s home, treating Thalleous—but glossed over the fact that the Sendaris had killed the thief and nearly died permanently—then their travel to Ataraxia and the incident at the river when Thalleous was pulled in.

The Magnorite took a breath. “And now we’re here. Nice place you have, by the way, if you don’t mind me saying that.”

“Thank you for letting us into your home,” Senn agreed. Yet, he wasn’t certain of how welcome they truly were. Thalleous’s brother had made it abundantly clear that he was unwelcome, something that piqued the curiosity of the younger Ardoni. He only hoped that their rocky relationship would not get in the way of the champion’s recovery.

Senn realized that Thalleous had been oddly silent this entire time. Apprehension twisting within him, he looked to the injured Sendaris only to find him lying limp in his chair, the mug of cider dangling from his fingers as its dregs trickled to the floor. His exhaustion had claimed him at some point during Igneous’s long-winded explanation. 

“Oh,” remarked the Magnorite in a much softer tone as he noticed as well. “Perhaps we should all move to a different room so we don’t disturb him, he really does need some good rest, after all.”

Rest. Senn hadn’t felt like they could properly rest since that night in Sendaria. In fact, he would be surprised if he ever found truly sound rest again. He had lost his home, his family, Thalleous had been badly wounded, and the Voltaris had returned…

“Senn, what is wrong?” Galleous asked. It was only then that he noticed the tears on his face, his frame so tense it was quivering.

“I don’t—we’re safe now, right?”

“Yes.”

“But—” he put his head in his hands. His body wouldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t breathe, trying to gasp for air but it did nothing to satiate his burning lungs. “They’re all dead! We didn’t arrive in time to-to stop the Voltaris and now… now they’re all dead!  _ Our home is gone! WHY—” _ his anguish broke from him all at once, a flood of raw emotion that he didn’t even try to stave off.

At some point, when his throat had run ragged and he had begun to cough harshly, Senn numbly realized that he was being hugged by Igneous and Galleous, their warm arms wrapped around his torso.

He fell limp into their comforting embrace, too exhausted to even feel ashamed of his breakdown. Senn hardly even knew them and felt so vulnerable. Yet it was as if the only things holding him together were his companions in this moment, physically keeping him from breaking into pieces. He certainly didn’t have the strength to do that himself.

“I couldn’t save any of them.” he whimpered finally, his voice a hollow rasp.

His companions pulled away, “It was not your fault.” said Galleous in a voice so soothing, it was almost impossible not to believe him.

But Senn knew that the Voltaris had come to Sendaria for the Mobilium Prime Song. If he and Thalleous hadn’t relocated it, maybe they would have found it and not burned the village, maybe Osivian still would have been alive, and Ria…

Senn hiccuped violently, choking on dry sobs. “Then why—why do I still feel so afraid?”

Galleous set a hand on his upper back reassuringly. “Because you care.” He paused. “When I first met you, even though you were very small, I saw a big heart in your eyes.”

“You—met me before?” Senn’s eyes widened, temporarily forgetting his sadness beneath his newfound surprise.

“I’m not surprised that you do not remember it, you were very young. My b—Thalleous was very persistent in his quest to find you a home…” he huffed, “but that is a story for another time. Igneous, would you mind taking Senn down to my room? He may rest there—go down the stairs and to the left.”

“Oh, of course. Come on, Senn—and hey, that reminds me: what’s sleeping like? You see, we Magnorites don’t sleep but it seems to be quite comfortable…” his waterfall of a voice led Senn downstairs, keeping him company. Galleous’s room was modestly small, relatively unadorned save for a chest, bookshelf, and some potted flowers. A bed was tucked in the corner beneath a muted lamp that let out diffuse light.

The tired youth sank onto the mattress, mentally thanking Galleous for his generosity.

“I-I know things are pretty bad right now, Senn,” the Magnorite said, standing in the doorway as he was about to leave. “But we’re safe now. Things are only going to get better, I can feel it.”

“I hope so,” the clanless Ardoni mumbled before sleep took him.

* * *

Galleous stood over his… no, he wasn’t his brother anymore, now was he. Thalleous hadn’t woken to Senn’s cries, an impressive feat especially with his persistent sleep troubles.

He looked up at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh. Galleous took the mug from the other Sendaris’s fingers and set it aside on a furnace, then wrapped his strong arms around the other’s frame. He was instantly met with a feverish heat and let out another sigh, yet this one was tinged with more worry than annoyance. And after all these years, he could still feel the wiry scars crisscrossing his twin’s back.

“The messes you always manage to get yourself into…” Galleous trailed off, shaking his head as he carried him to the lower level of his dwelling where there were more comfortable arrangements. When he reached the foot of the stairs, Calliope greeted him eagerly, her small tail wagging so vigorously it shook her entire rump. The tiny white dog was always timid around newcomers, but he supposed that his twin looked familiar enough that she wasn’t afraid.

“Hello,” he crooned as he smiled down at her, “be careful… daddy’s taking care of his nasty sibling and doesn’t want to trip, now does he? Does he?” He shook his head, he was being silly. This was serious… but perhaps his nerves were just frayed. It would make sense, he had always been the more “sensitive” out of the two of them, after all.

Galleous propped Thalleous against the wall for a moment as he went to retrieve armfuls of padding and blankets. He spread the mats and padding down on the floor into a good approximation of a bed, then unceremoniously dragged the other Sendaris into it. He knelt down and examined the bandages around his torso, loose and waterlogged from the river. How his idiot of a sibling had managed to half-drown himself in this state, Galleous had no idea. But he knew that his wound would be at risk of infection from the river water, the dirty bandage had to be removed.

The Sendaris balled his fists in the wet material and stretched it until it began to tear, then ripped it in two. The grisly wound was exposed to the air, and now Galleous could feel sympathy for his twin, but also a shiver of fear. It appeared to have been stitched up and then torn again, inflamed with fading infection as pus slowly dribbled from the seams. He wouldn’t attempt to wrap it again, not until he could get the other Sendaris to sit up—how he had been able to stand earlier completely eluded him. And besides, the injury looked as though it could use some airing out.

Thalleous’s eyelids fluttered and cracked open as Galleous draped a heavy blanket over him, covering his body entirely except his head. It would help to break his fever and hide the sight of his wound. 

“Why didyoo do tha…?” he slurred, voice thick with exhaustion. “You didn’ ‘ave to...”

Galleous stared down at him, arms folded. “Because I can’t stand the sight of you.”

Thalleous laughed at that, a delirious, bubbly sound that sickened his twin to hear and went on for far too long.

“Not when you’re like this,” he murmured, and began to walk away. The absence of sound made him turn back around, however. Galleous had expected Calliope to follow him, but she was sniffing Thalleous’s side. He lay perfectly still, watching her with glazed eyes that continued to droop. She padded to his arm and curled up by the crook of his elbow, her short white fur like snow against his gray skin. Her tiny pink tongue flicked out to give his arm a couple licks before she settled, releasing a minute huff. 

The injured Ardoni’s breathing gradually eased and eventually, he let out a tired sigh, slipping into sleep once more. Galleous sank down against the opposite wall to sit vigil, watching the serene pair until his own eyelids grew heavy and he allowed sleep to claim him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I admit that I never really know what to say in these notes other than the usual “this was fun but just you wait”... however, this time the bros are finally together in the present day (cue explosions). Their dynamic is one of my favorites, I’ve always been a sucker for reading/writing about siblings.  
> A bit random, but I also greatly simplified the process to make apple cider because the internet told me it takes hours to make XD  
> As always, you are a great audience, thank you for reading!
> 
> EDIT 11/23/20: Illustration! (I may or may not have finished it two months ago...)


	14. Blood Doesn't Lie

Finally, a moment to himself. Tygren had taken stock of the other wielders, having been certain to remember each individual’s name and what Song they used. There were no Voltaris who wielded more than one, none other than Ingressus himself, that was. He now observed a small group of Netherans as they emerged from the portal, hauling a wheeled platform that bore scorched cauldrons of bubbling lava. He picked at the dried blood of the Sendaris prisoners on his knuckles, idly watching the group steer their way to the forge through the same ruts they had left in the snow prior days. No doubt the smiths would put the fresh lava to good use.

That reminded him… he hadn’t checked that diamond spear for damages since he ran the champion through with it days ago in Sendaria. He doubted it had suffered harm, but it still needed to be cleaned.

The Voltaris deputy went over and snagged a rag from the blistering forge, then made his way to the temporary armory that had been situated beside it. Most of their force’s weapons were kept in the Nether’s own impressive armories, but the Voltaris liked to have some on hand especially with impending battles approaching on the horizon. One could never be too careful. They had paid dearly for their impulsivity in the Great War, and Tygren was determined that history would not repeat.

The diamond spear rested against the side of a stone shelf, concealed in shadows precisely where the deputy had left it. As he expected, its head was still heavily crusted with days-old blood from Thalleous Sendaris, a reddish paste that had long since congealed. There was quite a bit of it, but Tygren wasn’t surprised. He knew where he had hit the champion. He would be lucky to survive—if he were still alive, that was. In the unfortunate circumstance that he _did_ live, the Voltaris had a feeling that he would be crippled for the remainder of his days. He was a foolhardy old man who thought he could stand up to anyone because he had fought in the Great War, now Tygren had given him a dose of reality. Really, the Sendaris should be thanking him.

The deputy smirked and shook his head to himself, focusing back on the spear in his grasp. He normally would not bother to clean a weapon himself, but this was his doing and he did not have much to do elsewhere at the moment. Being made from diamond rather than iron, the spear was a valuable weapon; the Voltaris deputy did not want it to be carelessly damaged by some novice scrubbing against the metal’s grain. He would have taken it to his sister, Lethe, but she had more pertinent things to do as a smith, and their last conversation had been brimming with tension.

Gripping the spear and rag, Tygren forsook the rather pathetic armory for the frame of the Nether portal, and leaned up against the smooth obsidian once he reached it. The heat from the hellish world blew through the swirling purple energy that was the portal, warming the backs of his legs and arms. This was his favorite spot on the mountain, for he could observe everything the Voltaris were doing while being warmed by the fires of the Nether. And should he need to go there, the dimension was a mere step away.

The Voltaris set the bloodied spear at his feet and scrubbed his knuckles with the rag, the dry, blue-tinged blood coming off with a bit of work. He couldn’t get it all out of some creases, but that hardly mattered. Tygren then went about scrubbing the spearhead, unearthing the shining diamond blade once more from beneath the layer of filthy blood.

As he stared at it, something felt off, nagging at the edges of his thoughts.

The Voltaris eyed his knuckles again, then the rag. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, returning his gaze to the spearhead.

“What’s this?” he murmured, bringing the spear to eye level and held his hand up beside it, looking back and forth. Blue-tinged blood on his hand, yet the crusted blood on the head of the spear was another matter entirely. A powerful new thought had begun to take root in his mind, but he had to be certain.

Tygren pricked his thumb on the tip of the spear and let a small drop of scarlet blood fall on the weapon’s head. He took in a slow breath, one that turned into a sneer.

There was no mistaking it: the colors matched perfectly.

In an instant, he whirled and strode through the portal. The liquid wall of two-toned purple energy hit him like a waterfall, but its effects were the furthest things from his mind as he emerged on the nether brick walkway.

_Oh,_ he thought with a grin, _how the tides have turned._

* * *

He stared into the reflection of his own eyes that swam in the dark liquid at the bottom of the glass, feeling his grip tighten even though it was slippery with condensation. It smelled of honey and had a milky aftertaste that never grew old. Though he couldn’t recall the name, he knew it was said to have soothing effects, the aroma, the warm taste.

It brought back memories.

He let himself be pulled into the ocean of his past, back when his markings were yellow and his best friend—his brother—was right beside him. They asked each other the craziest of things, oftentimes getting a good laugh. It had taken a while for them to warm up to each other in the beginning, but now they were as thick as thieves and nigh inseparable.

_Achillean dropped a stone off the jetty’s ledge and watched it hit the water with a little splash, bubbles swirling around as it sank and came to a rest in the sand. “If you could be a king, what would you dream of?”_

_Ingressus didn’t miss a beat. “If I were a king, I’d probably dream of bringing peace into the world.”_

_Achillean’s face fell into shadow. “I could never be a king—or rather, a master. Power taints even the most golden of hearts.”_

_“Way to kill the mood, Achi,” his friend poked him in the chest and he let out a bubbling laugh, trying to squirm away._

_“No—_ no _! Not fair, I wasn’t ready!”_

_Just like that, the two were rolling around on the jetty and jabbing at each other with their little fingers as they squirmed and laughed, then pushing and shoving, seeing who would lose their footing and fall into the water first. Oh, how they had always loved to play-fight._

_Then Achillean managed to knock his feet out from under him and Ingressus slipped and fell on his shoulder. His necklace went flying off and into the water._

_“No!” Ingressus yelped, reaching for it as it splashed down and sank. The other Nestoris sprung off the jetty without a second thought, chasing after the piece of jewelry. Ingressus watched nervously as his friend dug through the sand underwater, kicking up clouds of the stuff until the formerly clear water was murky. The seconds dragged on and he yearned to jump in after him, but felt just as immobile as the jetty he knelt upon. Golden eyes fearfully combed the tan waters, searching for his friend, his brother._

_A sudden splash of water on his back had him whirling around in surprise, catching the culprit. Dripping wet, Achillean smiled from where he stood in the shallows, holding the necklace up for him to grab. “Here,” he offered it up. Ingressus plucked it from his palm, rubbing the lone silvery pearl strung on the fishing line._

_“Thanks. You know how I hate the water.” He said as he pulled it back over his head, minding his short horns._

_“I’ve always got your back, Gress.”_

The Deathsinger flung the glass across the room and it shattered against the nether brick wall. His chest heaved as the shards tinkled to the ground.

_If a tree falls in a forest and no one’s around, does it still make a sound?_

He sank to his knees, pulling at his hair as his head fell into his hands. His ragged breathing was the only sound in the deafening silence.

_If you scream and no one hears it—_

There was a knock at his door. He stood abruptly and ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it and patting it down in a hurried attempt to compose himself. But the broken glass on the floor couldn’t lie as easily.

“Enter,” he commanded, the quaver in his voice almost unnoticeable. Almost.

The door swung open soundlessly on oiled hinges and his deputy strode through, bearing a diamond spear.

“Why are you here?” The Deathsinger inquired. “If my memory serves, I told you to oversee the work that needs to be done at Mt. Velgrin.”

“That’s been taken care of,” the other Voltaris replied swiftly. “Have a look at this,” Tygren tossed it to him and Ingressus deftly caught it out of reflex.

The eyes of the Voltaris leader slid over the weapon. It was well-crafted but otherwise unremarkable, the wooden haft scuffed yet sturdy and the blade was caked with dry blood, looking as though someone had begun to clean it but stopped partway through.

“I had a revelation,” the other Voltaris continued when Ingressus remained silent. He strode nearer, crimson eyes never leaving the spear’s bloodied head. “It is not common knowledge that the blood of an Ardoni is tinged with the color of their birth clan, regardless of the one they had been Inducted into.”

Ingressus scraped some of the dried blood off and gazed at it on the edge of his fingernail. “Blood does not lie, that I know. For what reason do you impart this ‘wisdom’ of yours?”

A twisted, knowing grin grew on Tygren’s face, full of malevolence. “Because that scarlet blood belongs to none other than our prized champion himself.”

Ingressus slammed the haft of the weapon against the floor with a sharp _boom_ and a smile stretched across his own features as he looked upon the stained spearhead. 

“You have been keeping secrets, Thalleous Voltaris.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally heating up XD
> 
> I also feel like I should offer somewhat of an explanation in case it’s not clear enough: an Ardoni’s blood is primarily red in color, but has a slight tint that is the color of their clan of birth, regardless of the one they had been later Inducted into. For example, that’s why Ria’s blood is slightly blue-tinged (as a Sendaris), whereas Tygren and Thalleous both have red blood, having been born as Voltaris (even though Thalleous has lived most of his life as a Sendaris). Hope that helps!
> 
> Also, chapter 13's illustration is in the works—and from here on out, I'm not going to be illustrating every chapter as I have been. It simply is too much of a time commitment and even without this fanfic, I have a pretty busy schedule.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, don't hesitate to leave a review, I love hearing your thoughts! (And constructive criticism is much appreciated.)


	15. A Final Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/Content Warning: violence/gore

**(For the “full experience” of chapter 15, listen to[ “Where Is Your God Now”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bsvzP8EO65w) by Rok Nardin)**

* * *

Keion and Tauris grappled with the Netheran guard on the floor, tearing viciously at any weak chinks in his armor. Keion even managed to dislodge his helmet after ramming him with his horns, sending it skittering across the rough bricks along with his black sword. While Tauris kept him occupied with quick punches, the younger Sendaris darted to the dropped weapon and snatched it up, scowling, ears pinned to the sides of his head.

She, Ares, and Achillean could do nothing but watch as the sudden battle raged on in front of them. The second guard looked as though he were ready to charge but Aldebaran slammed into him before he could draw his weapon, an identical black-bladed sword in a partial scabbard at his waist. Whaling on each other, the two crashed to the floor, rolling over and over. The bricks were unforgiving, Aldebaran’s unprotected skin acquired a multitude of scrapes and scratches. Not only that, but the wound on the Ardoni’s right calf was leaking more blood, his face tight with pain. Fortunately, Tauris had the first Netheran pinned close by and called for Keion to come in for the kill. With surefooted steps, the younger Ardoni approached and tightened his grip on the obsidian hilt, gaze icy.

Electrified, Ria watched Keion drive the sword through one of the guard’s unprotected molten eyes. The glow went out abruptly and Tauris got off the prone body, shuddering at the sight. As gory as it was, the Sendaris girl could feel a desperate hope rising like bile in her throat, something almost unpleasant that she wanted to swallow. She did not want to hope, not when she was trapped in the Nether and her family was—

Keion wrenched the sword out of the dead Netheran and handed it to Tauris, motioning to Aldebaran and the guard who were still going at it. Their shouts were as coarse as the ground they rolled upon, the ground that was splattered with slippery blood.

Reluctantly, Tauris reached for the blade. “Why are you—”

“Just take it! He’s your brother, and I prefer my fists. Feels more personal,” the younger Sendaris spat, clenching them.

Tauris didn’t argue, there was no time. He snatched the sword by its grip then rushed to help his brother, who still grappled with the other guard.

As the eldest of the blue Ardoni materialized a disk of Aggressium energy in his palm, it dawned on Ria that their captors had never checked if any of the Ardoni possessed Songs. Not that she knew they _could_ , but she had heard old tales that Songs could be forcibly removed from a wielder in more ways than one. All were incredibly uncomfortable at best, excruciating at worst… that is, if the folklore were to be believed. Remembering her own Song, she didn’t want to dwell on gruesome possibilities. They were probably just old myths, they had to be.

Netirius flung the fully formed scarlet disk at the third and final guard, hitting him in the chest over the heavily-plated black armor. The Netheran stumbled but appeared unharmed; whatever that armor was made of, it was a very strong material. Ria watched him ready another disk, if he could just land a hit on a weak spot…

“Stop.” The second guard barked all of a sudden. Ria’s heart jolted at the sight of him with Aldebaran in a firm chokehold. He had gotten the upper hand on the injured Sendaris when the others weren’t watching, all of them distracted by Netirius’s fight.

“Brother…” Tauris trailed off, his knuckles whitening around the sword. Keion clenched and unclenched his fists, teeth grinding.

“Return to the cell immediately.” The guard’s voice cut like sharpened obsidian, his fingers tightening around Aldebaran’s windpipe. Gaping and gasping like a fish, the Sendaris kicked out with his good leg, clutching the guard’s wrist that was at his throat while his other arm hung uselessly at his side, bent at an unnatural angle.

The third Netheran lumbered closer in an attempt to force them to go back into the cage. But alone within the cell, Achillean got to his feet and shuffled over to the open doorway, barring the way with his own body. Even though he appeared frail, it was as if something had rekindled within his eyes, for they were pools of liquid fire. The flames within were bound and controlled as he was, but it was an inferno nonetheless. Even though he remained shackled at the ankles, he held himself with such an air of defiance as he faced the Netheran that Ria scarcely recognized the hopeless, half-starved Ardoni she had comforted in the cell not long before all this.

Following the Nestoris’s lead, the group of Sendaris turned back to the two Netherans in their own silent rebellion. The second guard cocked his head slightly as if surprised, then shook it, his fingers tightening around his captive’s windpipe. Aldebaran’s cerulean eyes widened, tearing up. That was when Ria, with a cry, saw thin curls of smoke rising from the skin around his neck.

“So be it.” With a sharp twist, he snapped the Sendaris’s neck and let his body fall to the floor. The Ardoni’s markings became dark like a candle extinguished by a sudden gust of wind.

The change from fear to rage was palpable, flying off the group like wrathful tongues of flame. Ria’s heart beat with an erratic mind of its own as she stared at Aldebaran, at what had become of him. Osivian laid in his place, covered in gouges and burn marks, markings as black as the souls of his killers. Something within her festered at the sight, blood running hot in her veins as his collected on the floor, still seeping out his leg. His black eyes gazed into her own sky-colored ones as if asking a question, pleading. Begging her to do something so they could escape, unlike him. So they could see the real sky again.

She swept her gaze over the others, eyes settling on the Nestoris. So out-of-place in this world of red and black, his golden markings reminded her of the Mobilium Song that she had been given. By now, the young Sendaris felt as though that had happened years ago to different people in a more carefree time. Yet still she felt its power, ever-pulsing with a steady, soft cadence unique to itself, its own song.

The Sendaris was relieved that she’d had the foresight to practice with it before her village was razed. Ever since Thalleous had entrusted her and Senn each with a Song, she’d itched to use it, having snuck out every night thereafter to practice at the nearest shrine. At the time, it had been a mere curiosity, but now it could be vital to her survival. So even though her injured body protested viciously, she strode forward, drawing on the power of her Mobilium to manifest a golden platform and catapult herself at the guard who slew Aldebaran. With enough momentum, Ria knew she could break something.

With no warning other than a sudden hum, an Aggressium disk split the air, arcing around to hit the Netheran square in his chest plate. A moment later, Ria collided with the guard and brought them both to the floor in an instant, when Tauris came in with the sword and stabbed downward once she had quickly moved. But the guard brought his own weapon up and blocked the strike, still on the ground. He kicked out and Tauris hastily backpedaled, unfortunately giving enough time for the guard to rise once more. The other Netheran fell into a crouch behind him, both of them in defensive stances so as to ward off Netirius’s projectiles.

The guard they had assaulted kicked Aldebaran’s body aside as if it were a troublesome piece of furniture. “Nice try,” he rumbled. And with no warning, the Netheran flung his sword directly at the Sendaris.

Tauris sidestepped, still clutching the sword, his jaw clenched so tightly that Ria swore she heard his teeth grinding as tendons popped in his neck. She only caught a glimpse but it was enough to see his blue eyes were icy with sudden grief and frigid anger. With Netirius’s aid, Ria and Ares were able to avoid the airborne weapon. However, Keion hadn’t been able to move in time and the blade clipped his calf, landing and skidding behind him on the brick floor. The younger, newly injured Ardoni looked as though he were going to retrieve the weapon, but behind him, Achillean hurriedly stumbled over the cell’s threshold and snatched it up. His shackles clanked together as he raised it, testing the weapon’s weight. In two deft strokes, he brought the blade down onto the chain binding his feet together, snapping the links connecting the chain to his shackles. Now he was free to move as he pleased, but his face remained unreadable though his ears had perked somewhat.

The other Netheran appeared somewhat hesitant all of a sudden but the closest was undeterred. He removed the mail backings over his hands as they began to glow brightly from scarlet to a bluish white, and the other guard did the same. To Ria’s horror, the air rippled around their fingers.

The nearest lunged at Netirius with his hands outstretched but the Sendaris managed to send a disk into his throat. He coughed and reeled backward, clawing at his neck where the armor had dented in, certainly choking him. The Netheran managed to get the armor piece loose and sent it flying across the floor, catching his breath. Yet his eyes still glowed white-hot.

A slash of black suddenly felled the other Netheran, bringing him to his knees. Sparks danced off his armor, undamaged, but the force from the blow had been enough to send him to the floor. Now, both Achillean and Tauris had their swords pressed to the guard. He lunged for their legs as if seeking to melt their skin off and Tauris sprang out of the way, his breaths coming in pants. The Nestoris, however, ignored the fiery fingers grazing his own leg and brought the sword down onto the Netheran once, twice, three times, huffing, his face twisted into a snarl, ears pinned back to his head. He stopped, chest heaving for air, sweat from his forehead streaming into his eyes. The guard was dead.

Recovered now, the remaining Netheran shook his helmeted head as his hands glowed even hotter, smoke rising from his fingers as the air warped around them from the heat. Ria knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that one touch from those to the neck, face, or chest would kill.

“I would say that I’ll see you in hell, but we are already here.” he sneered, pointing up and behind himself, out an archway that opened to a much greater expanse of the Nether.

Ria’s eyes widened, as did the others’. Looming in the distance, a pack of white monstrosities rose with unearthly calls and shrieks, buoyed by the eternal thermals. Her heart began to thunder in her chest, sinking like a dead weight that hammered out a funeral march. But she hadn’t given up, not so long as her companions still fought. Though now, they had to put their energy into escaping, not fighting. She didn’t want to meet those monsters, didn’t want to know of what horrors they were capable of.

Apparently the other Ardoni shared the same thought. “We must run!” shouted Netirius.

“I want to escape this as much as the rest of you,” Tauris growled, “but I will not flee when I can avenge my brother.”

“I will help fight—” began Ares, but the elder Sendaris put a halt to his words with an outstretched hand. Residual Aggressium energy flickered between his splayed fingers.

“No, you are too injured to help him. It’s his choice to remain here, and Tauris?” Netirius met his eyes with a gaze almost as icy as his own, “Bring these bastards to justice.”

Tauris huffed and nodded, turning to face his approaching opponent with his black sword drawn, knuckles white. It may have been the heat, but Ria thought she could have seen his frame tremble, though from anger or fear, she didn’t know.

This time, it was far easier for her to turn away. Together, the group of escapees began to run, many pairs of feet pounding against the red and black bricks like the blood rushing in her ears, kicking up small puffs of maroon dust in quick succession. Ahead of Netirius, Achillean took the lead as they ran through the fortress on what felt like some sort of memorized path. Ria didn’t know how that could have been the case, after all, he hadn’t been allowed to run freely about the place. The cell and shackles were testament to that. Yet he still took each turn with a sureness that seemed unquestioning. Perhaps he was running blind, but she hoped that wasn’t the case. They needed to stay away from those flying white beasts and escape, if it were even possible. Yet, a nagging seed of doubt remained in her mind, growing into a weed that choked her thoughts. He would only know the layout of this pit if he were free to roam it, wouldn’t he? It was the only explanation she could think of, but it made no sense. Unless… she shuddered to think that this Nestoris was secretly colluding with the Nether and Voltaris.

But no. When she was beaten by Tygren, Achillean seemed to show genuine concern and anger for her, not to mention the fact that his physical state reflected that of a prisoner. At least, what she imagined a long-term prisoner would look like. He had certainly been through hell. Yet, regardless of wherever his true allegiance may lie, she and the other Sendaris had no choice but to trust him, a risk she was more than willing to take.

Her footsteps faltered for a moment but Netirius fell back alongside her, ready to offer support. “I… just have… a lot on my mind.” she managed between pants, wiping sweat off her brow but it reappeared a moment later.

The older Ardoni said nothing but his eyes were deep knowing pools, heartache and understanding at their surface, weariness lurking beneath. They seemed to say, _“Don’t we all?”_ Instead, he asked “Are your… injuries causing you… discomfort?” he was just as weary as she.

She was injured, right. Amid all the commotion and jolts of adrenaline, her body had quieted its protesting, for that she was very grateful. Ria could still feel the pain from her many wounds, but they thankfully weren’t too severe. Mostly bruises, small cuts, and a broken nose that still dripped blood. She wiped her upper lip; it came back red tinged with blue. And her head throbbed with each step of her feet, but it was tolerable for now. She had to press on or she’d have worse things to complain over.

“I’ll live,” she replied between breaths. “I’m more... worried about Ares.”

The two spared him a glance. He lagged somewhat behind the others, but Keion wouldn’t let him fall too far behind, having taken up the rear. His steps were uneven and Ria could even hear his ragged gasps over her own panting. He half-ran, half-stumbled along, urged forward by his companion, yet Keion himself had a bit of a limp from the shallow cut on his leg. But there was nothing they could do.

As they ran on at a relentless clip, the heat grew intolerable, suffocating. All of them were suffering, even the Nestoris, who was presumably used to the terrible temperature. “Do you know where we’re heading?” Keion panted from behind Ria. Pushing a sweaty strand of hair from her eyes, she glanced back at him and then up to the Nestoris leading the way. To the group’s surprise, he nodded with a quick jerk. “Then where is that?”

Achillean shook his head and didn’t answer, not having uttered a word the entire brief time she’d known him. _So much for that_ , she thought. Ria’s stomach sank as she remembered her earlier suspicions, but did her best to push them from her mind. If he were working alongside the Nether… he—

Then Ria nearly knocked him over. The lean Nestoris had stopped in his tracks right before a fork. She opened her mouth to hiss out a question, to ask why they had stopped so suddenly, but then her ears caught a sound that made her blood freeze and gave her the answer.

“Believe me,” a voice began, belonging to the Voltaris Ria recognized as Tygren—the one who had beaten her so severely. The group of escapees flattened themselves against the nearest wall, chests heaving with silent breaths. Too close. He went on, his throaty voice grating on her ears, awakening the pain of her many injuries. “I note your concerns, but that champion will do little to stall our efforts. I know where I smote him. If he does survive the injury, it hardly matters. Once his secret is revealed, I would not be surprised if the others turned on him themselves.” Tygren let out a dark chuckle. “The irony is quite thick.”

“It is indeed,” another voice agreed. This one was also familiar, though for a moment, Ria struggled to place it amongst her panicked thoughts.

Then it hit her.

The Deathsinger himself.

Her breathing hitched but she stayed pressed against the wall, its ragged brick surface beginning to bite into her back. She would not make a sound, she could not make a sound. If they were found, it would mean the end.

Her head whirled with questions and her companions looked similarly baffled. _Champion? Does he mean Thalleous?_ And if he were to be believed, this twisted Voltaris had injured her “uncle” so severely that he was on the brink of death. Not only that, but the champion held some sort of catastrophic secret? And why was Tygren telling this to the Deathsinger?

No, Tygren had to have been lying. But perhaps there was a grain of truth to his words… Thalleous _was_ aging. He had been the champion of the Great War, it was common knowledge, but he couldn’t have been as spry now as he was back then. But still. Thalleous was too good of a fighter to be mortally wounded in battle. Not only that, but she knew him to share many stories of his past, including the War. To her, he was far from secretive.

Ria was so tangled up in her thoughts that she failed to notice the pair of Voltaris walking away down the hall until Achillean grabbed her attention with a wave of his free hand, the other still clutching the black sword. She nodded to him, silently telling herself to give it more thought at a better time. That meant assuming a better time would come, but she banished the doubt from her mind. Pessimism wasn’t going to make running any easier.

“We need to move,” Netirius vocalized. Blue-horned heads bobbed in assent. The group snuck onwards with the Nestoris taking the lead again, slinking down the path that the pair of Voltaris hadn’t taken. They continued that way for a while, keeping a steady yet measured pace, unlike that frantic sprint from earlier. The way Ria’s chest burned and legs ached, she doubted she’d be able to do that again. Especially not with this oppressive heat, which had grown more intense as they emerged onto a walkway in the open air. Shooting glances over her shoulder every few seconds, Ria felt so exposed, but knew they had no other choice. The others appeared similarly disquieted.

A sudden voice from behind made the group jump. “There you are! Curse those skeletons!”

Netirius spun around, “Tauris! Are you alright? Where—”

“It doesn’t matter, and I don’t even know. This fortress is a maze. I managed to dispatch the final guard, but they have several of those—those fire-spitting white monstrosities still on the loose. And there are other monsters that roam these halls and walkways, like the skeleton that gave me this—” he pointed to his right cheek where a cut still bled, and Ria noticed with alarm that the skin around it was blackened. “One of them caught me unawares with its dull sword. I would have caught up earlier had I not needed to deal with that nuisance.”

“It’s good to see you,” Keion added, a glint in his eye. “You had your revenge?”

Tauris nodded with a grim sort of satisfaction. Ria’s eyes flicked to the new bloodstains on his black sword. She almost envied him. The girl had been too overwhelmed to feel anything other than agony and shock at her father’s murder in Sendaria, but now she too desired revenge. She wanted Tygren’s blood spilled after what he had done to her home and her family. Her father and brothers were dead. Senn was missing, and Thalleous was possibly either dead or dying, all because of the Voltaris.

She hated their clan, hated what they had done to everyone. All this devastation for what? A Prime Song? It filled her with disgust and loathing.

“Ria?” Ares was looking at her. She could still hear the laments of those massive floating monsters in the distance. Had they grown louder? A few more seconds of listening made her heart grow heavier with dread. It was unmistakable, they were closer now.

Fear arced through her. The Sendaris didn’t know what those demons could do if they got near enough, nor did she want to know. But she couldn’t see them, couldn’t even tell which direction the sounds were coming from. It was as if the Nether created strange echoes, distorting sounds with its own warped landscape.

“What do we do?” Her voice sounded weak and fearful yet held an undercurrent of anger.

With his sword, Achillean pointed down the walkway, which was shrouded in the same reddish, spore-laden haze. Even through the haze, the reason they had stopped became too clear too suddenly.

The walkway had collapsed into a sea of slowly churning lava far below, too distant to leap across.

Tauris and Keion cursed, Netirius let out a frustrated sigh. Ares leaned against the side of the walkway, head in his hands. Strangely enough, Achillean looked thoughtful, staring at her. Ria didn’t know what to think. They couldn’t give up, nor could they turn back. They’d gotten this far and the white monsters closing in would block their only exit soon enough. It didn’t lead anywhere anyway.

“I don’t know,” Tauris eventually answered, staring at his sword as if it would offer advice. “I don’t—does anyone have an idea? We’re running out of time.”

“I can’t—” Ares coughed, his teeth red, “I won’t make it. I will only continue to slow you all down, what good has that done?”

“What, you want us to leave you here?” Keion asked, disbelieving, blinking as sweat dripped into his eyes. “Leave you at the mercy of those _things_?” The beasts’ cries had grown louder, piercing in their intensity as they gained proximity.

“No.” Netirius said grimly. “If we cannot escape, we’ll make our final stand here. I have my projectiles—” Aggressium energy twisted around his fingers, “and Tauris, Achillean? Use your swords wisely.”

“How many of them are there?” Ares breathed, his voice strained. He spat out a glob of blood, swaying on his feet.

None of them needed to answer, for the monstrosities showed themselves at last. There were five of them, each equally ghastly and mounted by a black-clad Netheran rider. The beasts’ ghostly white hides undulated in the dead air, their many tentacles lashing and grasping at nothing with what could only be described as a craven hunger. They looked _excited_.

And then on command from one of the riders, they opened their maws as one and rent the air with a screech so visceral and foul that Ria knew she’d never escape it for the remainder of her days.

Or the remainder of her seconds, because just then, fire rained down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Who doesn’t love cliffhangers?
> 
> Also, go check out chapters 1 and 13, they have new illustrations!
> 
> On a more serious note: It’s been a while. I’m very sorry for the long hiatus, life got busier than expected and this fic has had to take the back seat and be content to stare out the car window for the long wait like a good kid. *ahem* This chapter was hard to write, or I had at least convinced myself of that… fight scenes aren’t my forte. But good news! I don’t like these long waits between updates and I’m sure you all don’t either (seriously—this gap was longer than the hiatus I took at the beginning of summer). So, I’m putting the work in to fix that. It’s not a guarantee but it’s the best I can offer.
> 
> Thanks for reading and sticking around, feel free to leave a comment—I love talking with you guys and hearing your thoughts, they keep me motivated! And it’s also the first anniversary of Songs of War, cheers!


	16. A Shouting Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/Content Warning: violence/gore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 1/15/20: I made a small animation for this chapter, the link's in the closing author's note! (It's spoilers if you haven't read, though)

**(For the “full experience” of chapter 16, listen to** [ **“Final Wave”**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCbCzoLrL9k) **by Two Steps From Hell)**

* * *

“RUN!” A voice screamed. The group of escapees scattered, diving in different directions as the walkway was bombarded by fireballs. _Fireballs._ It reminded Achillean of less fortunate, “less valuable” prisoners who had been thrown to the ghasts instead of confined to a cell. The Nestoris used to think of it as a mercy. Now, his mind had been changed when fire rained down on him and the urge to live, to flee, to _fight_ sang in his veins.

He didn’t know what possessed him to latch onto Ria’s arm as she activated her Song. Springing off the platform, she launched both herself and Achillean out of the way—so far that they flew across the broken part of the bridge and landed in a tangle of limbs on the other side. A few chunks of brick broke off and crumbled to the lava ocean so far below, but they were unfazed.

The one once known as the Tidesinger set his jaw and rose to his feet. He was done running.

Achillean had been running from many things for a long, long time, hope chief among them. Whenever it had gotten too close—close enough to be a threat—he’d beaten it back. At times, it screamed at him on the other side of the cage around his heart, screamed to be let in, screamed until he screamed back and his tormentors came to dole out more punishment, to silence him. He never had allowed himself to hope. Every time he had, it only ended in disappointment. Perhaps he’d gone a bit mad as a result, though that could have been attributed to prolonged isolation. That and the inability to hear his own voice, the one sound he could trust.

But now, things were different. He wasn’t alone, and not only that, but there were other voices down here that he could put faith in, not ones of his own making. He and the Sendaris were going to escape.

The bars around his heart lowered and the grasping hands of hope seized him as he came to a single realization. Somehow, this girl had his old Song: Mobilibounce, and knew how to use it. She could save them.

The hot, sulfurous air seemed to choke him. If only he could speak, he would be able to spread hope to the others, to tell them that down this very bridge lay a portal out of this infernal dimension.

It struck him out of nowhere. _The portal._ All he had to do was run while the ghasts were distracted with the others and he could escape. He could have his freedom. The very thought of it was staggering. If Achillean squinted, he could make out the faint purple glow from where he stood. His heart _yearned_ for it as if it were water in an endless desert, the only way—no, not home. He had no home anymore. But _out_. The gateway lay straight in front of him, beckoning, taunting with its violet particles.

But his companions were behind. The ghasts had damaged the other section of the walkway and he couldn’t see through the dusty haze and smoke well enough to know if they had survived. The beasts couldn’t fire right away again, even though he’d rarely set eyes upon them, he knew that they needed a minute to replenish the fire in their bellies.

Despite her injuries, Ria stood, staring down at him with a resolve so strong that it bolstered Achillean’s own. And even though his ears were ringing from the blast, head swimming with adrenaline, terror, and that dangerous hope, he could make out her words.

“I’ll go.”

He couldn’t protest. A familiar golden platform came into existence at her feet and she stepped onto it, then bunched her legs and leapt as if fired from a cannon. Her figure vanished into the dense cloud, the platform disappearing with her. The ghasts and their riders hadn’t left, flying around to clear the smoke and dust as well as strike fear into the escapees. The seconds ticked on, the air seeming to grow hotter. Sweat trickled down the back of Achillean’s neck and his head spun. The heat was inside of him, melting his insides into a puddle of emotions he couldn’t understand. He hadn’t felt much of anything other than pain and exhaustion for many years, now to be feeling everything was almost too much.

He forced himself to focus. The smoke had cleared somewhat and one of the ghasts dove close to the Nestoris, screeching. He didn’t know what hurt worse, his ears or the new scratches on his back from the beast’s serrated tentacles.

Achillean looked up not a moment too soon, coming face-to-face with Ria and Netirius as they rocketed towards him. The Nestoris took a cautious step closer as the pair landed hard on the edge of the bridge, ready to steady them. The older Sendaris’s eyes watered from the smoke and he coughed harshly but looked immensely grateful. Yet before he could utter his thanks to Ria, she flung herself across again.

Fortunately, his cobalt markings never dimmed, showing Achillean that he was uninjured. Yet rattling coughs still wracked his body as he bent over, trying to rid his lungs of the smoke. “Ares—” he rasped, “Ares… he couldn’t move in time.” Another coughing fit seized the Sendaris.

Another dead just like that. Anger swelled within Achillean, rage towards the evil beasts and their riders. But that anger quickly took the form of oppressive guilt as he realized that they could have escaped sooner with Ria’s Song, could have avoided this attack entirely if he had made it clear enough. He had known, after all.

Achillean had never wished for the use of his vocal cords more than he did now.

Ria came flying back through the haze again, with Tauris in tow this time. Their feet regained contact with the bridge and the other pair immediately latched on, their movements panicked and jerky as they pulled them away from the edge to relative safety.

The monstrosities let out another shrill cry in unison as if mocking them, and a shiver ran down Achillean’s frame. No, they weren’t safe, they would never be safe here. Ria shared a glance with the Nestoris as if she had been thinking the same thing, then crouched and launched herself off a new platform over the abyss and into the smoke once more.

“We can’t stay here!” Tauris shouted before doubling over in a fit of coughs. With a push to Netirius’s back, the Nestoris made it clear that the two Sendaris were to run down the walkway and not turn back. They would see the portal soon enough, he only hoped that they didn’t hesitate to go through it.

“Achillean, do n—” Netirius had grabbed onto his forearm but Achillean wrenched out of his grip just as quickly and ran the other way, clutching his sword in a death grip. He would make sure Ria and Keion came across; if not, he would join the other Sendaris as fast as his legs would carry him.

The seconds dragged by, the only sounds the fading thuds of the pair’s pounding feet and crackles of new fires.

_WAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIOOOAAAAAAAAAAAA!_

Achillean tried to cup his hands to his ears—he’d forgotten about the ghasts’ terrible screams. With growing anxiety, the Nestoris gripped his sword more tightly and watched for any sign of Ria and Keion. Fortunately, he didn’t need to be patient. The smog had thinned enough that he could make out their silhouettes before they fully emerged from its deathly embrace, but something was wrong.

Though held by Ria, Keion wasn’t moving.

Achillean’s heart dropped. _Not another._

She stumbled as they landed, the other Sendaris falling to the ground like a puppet with cut strings. With visible effort, Ria dragged herself back to her feet and tried to heave Keion up as well, but it was no use. Hope strengthening, Achillean saw that the prone Ardoni’s chest rose and fell with a regular rhythm. He appeared to have passed out from inhaling too much smoke, and she didn’t look too much better either.

“Keion!” The Sendaris yelled, shaking his shoulder. He didn’t respond. They both were at a loss as to how to rouse him, and Ria’s strength was fading fast.

He bit his lip. They had to leave if they wanted to survive.

As much as he despised his own actions, Achillean reached out to pull her away—

Another shriek split the air. The Nestoris whipped his gaze upward to see a fresh ball of molten fire screaming towards them, and the other ghasts looked almost ready to spit their own flaming balls of death on top of it.

Dread settled heavily on Achillean. Keion wasn’t getting up and he seriously doubted that Ria could move quickly enough, not with how she was shaking. His mind was blank as sweat dripped into his eyes, then fell out of them like tears. He’d gotten close, so close to freedom, they all had. That was good enough.

It had to be.

Ria disagreed. Hand shakily outstretched, the Sendaris girl made a golden platform materialize right in front of him, waiting.

He shot her a glance. Now, a single purpose swelled within him, the desire to achieve something better than “good enough.”

Gripping his sword, Achillean leapt onto the platform and shot off of it the same way he had done many years ago, in the fight that led to his imprisonment. Now, this would lead to their freedom. Freedom or death, and if he died, he would die trying. It was almost poetic.

He and the fireball hurtled towards each other with the same intent of violent destruction, both screaming in their own way. Achillean’s heart pumped at such a pace that it _hurt_ , it hurt and he screamed from the pain and the terror, the adrenaline, the rage, the feeling of being alive, the imminent threat of death, the hope, despair, betrayal, longing, thirsting, hunger, _inferno_ within him that begged to be released, shrieked to meet its match. And its match, a blazing ball of molten fire, screamed towards him like a starved predator. He must’ve been mad too, the fire coursing through him as if _he_ were the fireball streaking across the sky, a beacon of radiant death.

Achillean did the only thing he could, the only reflex that made a shred of sense in his scattered, raging mind. Sword high over his head, he cleaved down with as much force as he could muster and smashed it into the meteor. The heat was intense, bits of liquid flame spraying everywhere from the impact, some even onto his skin. It was intense, too intense, for the moment he had destroyed his counterpart, he had ceased to be the inferno. The fire left him.

All momentum lost, he found himself falling, but a quickly placed platform from the Sendaris sent him flying back to the brick bridge where he crashed beside Keion. He didn’t see the fireball’s returning trajectory but heard dying screams rip themselves from the ghast and its rider. A grim smile settled upon his face. The others still had not fired.

“That was incredible,” Ria breathed, letting out something that sounded like a hysterical laugh. He couldn’t blame her; his nerves were just as frayed, vision swimming. Was he crying? Was he too exhausted? Was he on the verge of blacking out?

It didn’t matter. Liquid adrenaline still blazed through his veins. Body covered in scrapes, Achillean heaved himself back to his feet, his cramped hand still glued to the sword. Somehow, its black blade was undamaged by the molten rock and fire it had just struck, though glowed red-hot.

There still wasn’t time, the ghasts could attack again at any moment and none of the Ardoni had the strength to fight back. By some unspoken agreement, the two slung the third’s arms over their shoulders heaved him up between them. Now half-conscious and gaining awareness with each passing second, Keion did his best to ease the burden on them as they drew nearer to the portal, his markings and eyes taking on more and more of their usual brightness.

Ria tripped on a rock and fell. The Song use had taken a lot out of her, and on top of that, her body was riddled with injuries. Minor injuries, but injuries, nonetheless. Achillean had a feeling he wouldn’t be in much better of a state after the energy of the fight fully abandoned him.

Now able to walk on his own and lamenting Ares’s loss, Keion helped her back to her feet and the trio forged on. As they neared the portal, the Nestoris couldn’t tear his gaze from its whirling depths, mesmerized by the possibility of freedom. It was just as inviting as he remembered from all those years ago. Violet mist spilled from the gateway in faint waves, as welcoming as the sea on a hot summer day, lapping at the edges of the obsidian frame. He remembered the beautiful gateway, this path, the road out of this hell that he’d run many times before with no success.

It had been many years since he had once even considered fleeing possible as he once had. The punishments for his attempts to escape long ago had dissuaded him from continuing in that foolish, futile quest. He fully expected not to have made it this far, it felt more surreal than anything the maddening dimension he was leaving behind could offer. Had the ghasts left? No, he could still hear their shrieks and approaching roars of fireballs yet again. But it was all a muted haze, the urgency had abandoned him. There were only him and the gateway now.

Two steps. One through the portal, letting the purple mist wash over him. He ignored the accompanying nausea, ignored the pair of Ardoni who followed close behind him, ignored the two ahead and their relieved smiles, partly hidden by the dense white fog. Achillean took two steps out of that hell and dropped to his knees in deep snow, letting out a cry with his ruined vocal cords as tears fell down his cheeks, head spinning.

He was finally, _finally_ free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Who else loves “Take Back the Night”? (Go check it out if you haven’t heard it) ;)
> 
> Also, this chapter will have a little animation to it that I’ll post on my YouTube channel within a few days… was hoping to finish it before this release but it didn’t quite work out.
> 
> EDIT 1/15/20: About that animation... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MI-bNmHDqmc  
> Took a really long time... ha.... worth it
> 
> “Bridges burned and broken on different sides  
> We start anew  
> Being chased by monsters, to face head-on  
> Or be consumed  
> Reaching out for something, grasping on to  
> Nothing to lose  
> Payback’s left too long unpaid, but today  
> Today we got to…  
> Cast the shadows out from sight  
> A final stand, a shouting cry…”


	17. Resurgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/Content Warning: suicidal ideation

**(For the “full experience” of chapter 17, listen to this cover of** [ **“Living Mice”**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ogMlZFKus4) **by Seth Angerer)**

* * *

Having dropped his sword, the Nestoris dug his hands into the cold,  _ cold _ whiteness all around him, dragging a pile of it towards his chest where it began to leach out the hellish heat. It couldn’t be real; he had been sealed in that tomb of fire for so long that he had forgotten what true cold felt like. Yet the snow collected under the edges of his ragged nails, so frigid that it hurt. And pain, it was hardly a stranger to him. Pain was reality.

That meant this was real.

He was free from the Nether, free from that hellscape of isolation enclosed by bars of evil and insanity, of fire and brimstone, of men and beasts that only craved blood, power, and the desolation of their foes.

A burst of strangled giggling escaped him, shaking his form violently. He couldn’t stop, just sat there until he felt he’d rupture from feeling so many emotions at once, too many to identify. He only stopped when he choked, coughing up smoke and ash he’d managed to inhale in their escape.

_ Escape. _

It almost sent him over the edge again, but now, the adrenaline was wearing off and fatigue had begun to set in. With it, his wounds began to cry for attention. As the others were, he was riddled with abrasions from the rough landings. But the golden Ardoni hadn’t seen the slashes on his own back from that ghast’s serrated tentacles and only took comfort in knowing that they weren’t deep. The icy air bit into them with an uncomfortable ferocity, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The frigid cold was a welcome contrast to the intolerable, choking heat of the Nether.

He drew the snow even closer to himself. His limbs had seemed to turn to heavy ice, senses dulling. The white mush soothed his new wounds and old burns, erasing the phantom pain from years ago. He was still so tired, even more so after the desperate escape. A part of him wished that he could just stay here in the cold forever, let it leech his pain away beneath the moonlight that trickled through the thick fog.

Paying no attention to the others, Achillean sank into the little pile of snow he’d made, breaths hitching. He… he didn’t know what he was feeling, but everything felt  _ wrong _ , somehow. They had escaped,  _ he _ had escaped, but had he really? How could he know that a pack of Netherans weren’t about to pour out of the portal, or that Tygren or the Deathsinger wouldn’t check the now-empty cell? Surely the group of former prisoners were expected someplace, after all, one of the guards had said they were to be moved to a different cell. That would’ve posed a problem even if they had escaped unnoticed. Soon, the Nestoris was certain that the whole of the Nether would be bearing down on them, all because of him. Why they kept him prisoner, he never knew. The Deathsinger clearly valued him in some way, wanted him alive for sick reasons unbeknownst to him. The backstabber had no shame, didn’t display a hint of remorse when—when…

Achillean’s breaths came in gasps and he squeezed his head, his long, scraggly hair knotting around his fingers. The iron shackles weighed heavily on his ankles, seeming to drag him deeper into the snow. Perhaps if they pulled him deep enough, he’d slip through the ground and back into that hellish realm he so despised. He was already slipping; he could feel it. Achillean would never escape, never be able to run far enough from that infernal place.

A gargled scream escaped his lips of its own accord. The Nestoris pushed against the snow, clawed at it, heaved for air, and fought to stay above the ground. This was one battle he would not lose; he wouldn’t return to the Nether, he couldn’t, he had to resist, they had to stop, he had to stop, what—what had he done to deserve this? Despite their many battles, he had never harmed Ingressus, he had never  _ wanted _ to harm Ingressus, but he would stop the Deathsinger. He had to. He would persevere, would fight until that menace was defeated. He owed it to Ardonia for inadvertently creating such a monster, to all the lives that were lost in the War. Albeit indirectly,  _ he _ was the true villain of it all, there was no denying it. If he hadn’t encouraged Ingressus to compete in the tournament to become the Ardoni champion, the Great War would not have taken place. It was his mistake and he had to fix it.

But Achillean had failed at that as well. He couldn’t put an end to the Deathsinger because he wouldn’t harm Ingressus. He had still seen that murderer, that  _ traitor _ as an ally, a friend, a brother. The Tidesinger had frozen before he could deliver the final blow and the rest was history.

He’d failed.

Perhaps when he was recaptured, the Nether would put him out of his misery. They might make it quick. If not, he would refuse food. There was no reason to hope any longer, not when he was doomed to remain caged in the Nether like an abused animal. No, he’d rather die with what remaining dignity he had, would never let them see that they had finally broken him. They didn’t deserve that twisted satisfaction.

It would be less painful if he resisted, he knew. Achillean would sit and wait, wait in the wonderful snow until he was torn away and returned to a cell. How foolish and delusional he had been was ridiculous to the point of being obscene. He’d made it out of the Nether, but he hadn’t escaped. He would never, ever escape. The only escape was death.

Tears flowed freely down his face, leaving freezing tracks on his cheeks that smelled of salt. The Nestoris didn’t care, caring only led to pain. Let the four Sendaris run, maybe they would get away. Maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they were actually allies of the Nether and this was all a sick game of which he was merely a piece on the board. The thought sent sobs wracking his thin, frail body, each one sending shooting pains through his injured back. Even though he knew he deserved this and worse, he couldn’t help but want it to end. If he had a voice, he would have begged.

He glanced up to see if the Sendaris remained. If they did, he couldn’t tell because sometime when he was lost in his morbid thoughts, the soupy fog had grown so thick that it separated him from the other Ardoni. He could barely make out the sword laying in the snow beside him.

Achillean took in a deep breath and the fog seemed to flow into him, to occupy his thoughts and lull his shivering frame. It was fresh and cold, the exact opposite of the air in the Nether. It seemed to draw his anxieties out of him, putting his heart more at ease. He could feel its beats slowing to a steadier rhythm.

His eyes snapped wide, the wind had picked up, and he could see why: he was flying over the snowy ground, down the mountainside, along a river, past a fort, through a forest, up and down hills all in the blink of an eye, and then—

There was a beam of light. Achillean’s breath fled his lungs and he gasped for air. His head pounded like the armored feet of Netheran guards, dizziness threatening to empty his stomach of its meager contents. Through blurred vision, he could make out the swirling, bluish beam of light belonging to a beacon, around which islands hung in the air and moved in lazy circles.

It was a beautiful sight.

As quickly as it had come on, it all vanished and he was back in the snow, sitting as he had been. Had he even moved from his place? Had he hallucinated or had some sort of vision? It made no sense, but he had no time to dwell on it, for someone was calling his name.

“—illean? Achillean, can you hear me?!” The addressed Ardoni suppressed a shudder and lifted his head to see Netirius holding out a hand. Achillean stared at it, shivering, the afterimage of the beacon still floating in his vision. “You are weary, as am I. We all are, but this is no place to rest. Rise, we must seek refuge while the fog holds.”

He continued to stare at the hand, trying to drive the vision—or hallucination, whatever it had been—out of his mind and focus on reality. He was out of the Nether. If the Sendaris wanted him to accompany them, then he would chance it. He didn’t believe that they would escape, it was only a matter of time before the Nether forces came through the portal and began the hunt. But he had nothing to lose.

The Nestoris nodded slowly to Netirius and grabbed his sword out of the snow. He shook the powder off and fixed the weapon to his back, it was the best place for it for the time being.

He hesitated. If he took Netirius’s hand, it would mean allowing himself to hope again. Hope had always led to pain, and he had been so full of it.

“Achillean,” the Sendaris whispered, “come.”

That was enough to convince him for now. The Nestoris took his hand and hauled himself to his feet, blinking lingering tears out of his eyes. For a moment, the snowy world seemed to swirl around him as if shaken by some outside force.

He was really doing this.

Ria appeared at his side and gripped his upper arm, helping him keep his footing despite her injured state. He jumped at the sudden contact and she muttered a quick apology but didn’t let go. A closer look showed that she seemed rather woozy and worried, but none of that outweighed the elation radiating from her thanks to their escape, even though two of their number hadn’t made it.

Aldebaran. Ares. How had he managed to push them out of his mind for so long? The two names were like brands on his heart, and he was intimately familiar with brands. They stayed with you for the rest of your life. If the group hadn’t attempted escape, the two would most likely still be alive. Trapped in the Nether, but alive. His breaths hitched; it was yet another failing of his.

Ria gripped his arm tighter as if offering support. Or perhaps she herself needed it. Achillean didn’t protest, not this time, but it was a struggle. Physical contact was something that had only been hostile for many years, it would take some getting used to once again.

His wits about him once more, the Nestoris surveyed the group. All were panting and sweaty with various injuries marring their bodies, although none looked serious. Bluish circles hung under their eyes, born of stress and sleepless exhaustion. Of them all, Ria was the worst off, but was still standing. Netirius was swinging his head around in attempts to peer through the dense fog while Tauris gripped his sword with white knuckles as he spoke with Keion in low, dark tones, far enough away to not be heard.

“Where are we?” asked Ria, her voice hoarse from the smoke of the bridge. No one answered, all equally lost. Achillean turned around, facing the portal. His heart sank. The Nestoris had a feeling he would recognize it; this was the same spot where he was captured all those years ago. Though it was now capped with snow, this was undoubtedly the peak of Mt. Velgrin. If only he could share that fact.

He wondered how much time had passed in the Overworld since his capture. Long enough for his markings and name to not be recognized, it seemed.

Achillean focused back on the present, he hadn’t yet gotten a good look at their surroundings. It was nighttime and the same dense fog swirled around the small group of Ardoni, reflecting the glows of their markings.

Keion spat into the snow. “It doesn’t matter where we are—we’re out of the Nether, aren’t we?”

“But we aren’t safe yet,” Tauris scowled and pointed at the tamped down snow between his feet. “There are tracks here, this portal has been used recently. It must be able to link to others in the Nether since the way we came from was broken. That makes it far more dangerous, and the only ones who use it are our enemies.” His fist tightened around the handle of the sword so much that Achillean thought he heard knucklebones popping.

Netirius and Ria looked ready to reply but stopped when they noticed a cleft forming in the fog. The Ardoni looked on in astonishment as it rapidly widened into a tunnel straight through the fog, heading in a single direction.

Then came the voices. If there had been any metaphorical fire still left in Achillean’s veins, it drained out of him in an instant, leaving him as a block of ice.

“I heard a yell from over near the portal!” shouted a gruff voice.

“How can you hear anything in this?” replied a skeptical female’s voice, younger than the first.

“I can hear you, can’t I? Besides, it’s only fog.”

_ “Run!” _ Netirius hissed. They didn’t need to be told twice. Ignoring their injuries, the group threw themselves into the inexplicable tunnel that pierced the fog. The voices faded into the distance and a glance back revealed that fog was filling the passage in behind them, though leaving enough space for them to continue without needing to worry about falling behind. If the fog overtook them… the thought was almost comical in its irony. For his entire stay in the Nether, Achillean had never thought he’d worry about getting lost in snow and freezing to death.

They shared no words, just focusing on following the steep path through the fog because they were going  _ somewhere _ , and anywhere was better than the Nether or a mountain teeming with enemies. And they were leaving the mountain by the looks of it, the snow gradually became less deep and the ground sloped away beneath them. Despite their injuries and exhaustion, they never fell, not even faltering in their strides. Terror was a powerful motivator, but it had to fade sooner or later.

That time came when they staggered to the edge of a river, a faint path leading down its bank to their right. They had left the snow behind in exchange for lush greenery, short grasses and trees scattered along the riverbank. Though they hadn’t noticed it thinning, the fog, too, had left. Only the sounds of their heavy, frantic panting filled the air now.

Achillean scarcely bothered to take in the sight and instead dashed to the river to ease his dry throat. Without a thought, he dropped to his knees in the mud and scooped handful after handful of water to his mouth, getting it all over his face but not caring in the slightest. Eventually, it took on a somewhat salty taste—was he crying? If so, he didn’t care. It had been so long since he’d had any sort of water, his only source of food and drink in that hell had been different kinds of stew. Achillean had almost forgotten what true, pure,  _ cold _ water tasted like. It tasted of earth, of life, of freedom, and he yearned for more. It was as if the world were growing more real by the minute.

The others had joined him—albeit in less of a frenzy—getting much-needed drinks of their own and once finished, even trying to scrub the muck, char, grime, and grit of the Nether from their bodies. Still, no one said anything, but there was a sense of urgency in the air, the knowledge that this sweet respite could not persist for long.

That made the water taste foul and forced Achillean to stop, even though he felt as though his thirst would never be quenched.

Then, the Nestoris caught his reflection in the rippling water. He immediately wanted to look away, that couldn’t have been  _ him _ … but it was, wasn’t it? That emaciated creature staring back matched his every movement and shared the dull gold of his markings.

His hair hung lank and long around his face, far longer than he would ever have wanted it to reach. He didn’t know how others preferred it over shorter hair, it always got in his view or tangled in something. It was stringy and dirty, tangled and missing clumps here and there. His golden eyes, he remembered them to be so bright, twin suns. Now, they stared back lifelessly, tarnished orbs set into deep pits. They disturbed him and he quickly changed the focus of his attention. His face had grown lined, not from age, but from the countless torments inflicted upon him and the stresses they caused, his cheekbones far more prominent than he remembered. His gray skin seemed to lack more color than he remembered, if that were possible. His ribs were prominent enough to be a cause for worry. But worst of all was the web of pale scars knotted over his entire left side, including his face.  _ The burns. _

The Nestoris didn’t recognize himself. He wanted to heave, but not even the stew would come up.

“Hey, Achillean?” Ria approached him once again. She was clean now and looked remarkably better because of it. Her wounds didn’t look that bad when they weren’t caked with blood and grime, but she still winced with every movement and they still oozed blood. Her broken nose and bruised jaw were unsightly, the Nether had made eyesores out of the both of them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the others getting out of the river, shivering, exhaustion still evident in their movements. Tauris retrieved his sword from the bank and affixed it to his back. Achillean returned his gaze to the young Sendaris before him, unable to say anything.

“Hey,” she tried again, a bit louder this time. Something must have shown on his face. “Thank you for leading us all—” she winced. Not all. Ria picked up in a quieter tone, “for leading us out. And for deflecting that fireball… I don’t think we would have made it if not for that.”

He shook his head. Her platform had allowed him to do that. But of course, he couldn’t say that to her. He hadn’t been able to say anything for many years.

The Nestoris looked away and wrung water out of his hair, wishing the sensation of grittiness would leave. He wished that a clump of it hadn’t just come away in his hand. He wished that he would be able to speak again. It hadn’t been so bad in the Nether with no one to talk to but himself, and even that would’ve gotten old after a while. But this… now it well and truly felt like a handicap.

The Sendaris seemed to sense his feelings and gave him a light pat on the shoulder, her disfigured face sad but glimmering with hope. “There are other ways to communicate.”

“Are you done having a moment?” Keion snapped from near Netirius, bristling.

“Keion, please.” said Netirius, his voice ragged from weariness.

“I don’t mind,” Tauris added, leaning against a tree with his eyes closed, his expression a mask. “We all need a break.”

The older Sendaris hummed wistfully. “Agreed, but we cannot remain here.”

Achillean got to his feet and his whole body clamored in protest, the wounds on his back most of all. Ria appeared just as weary, if not more so. None of them had anything to eat since the Sendaris had been tossed into the cell back in the Nether, however long that had been. They hadn’t had much rest, either, but they all pressed on. They couldn’t falter now, the escapees had to put as much distance between themselves and that hell as quickly as possible. Maybe they did have a chance.

As they trekked onwards up the riverbank, the world took on a hazy sheen to it. Black spots darted across Achillean’s vision like embers, he could feel himself weakening. The shared Song use, exertion, and injuries had taken a lot out of his starved, tired body. Nearby, Ria seemed to be feeling the same if not worse.

Through it all, the Nestoris smiled. He had reason to hope, now. They hadn’t been recaptured, hadn’t even seen any signs of pursuers. All this wouldn’t be for nothing. They were free,  _ he _ was free, back in the Overworld in a time that wasn’t ravaged by war. He couldn’t ask for more, just that it would stay.

Ria’s presence vanished from his side, but Achillean kept walking in a daze on flimsy, watery legs. The spruce trees around him swooped like birds hunting for fish, diving towards the river before launching back into the sky. Then he was kneeling in the grass, ears ringing and vision swimming with those black spots. Someone called his name. He clung to the feeling of the wind in his hair, savored it until the world fell to darkness and he knew no more.

* * *

Clementine liked the cool night air coming from the mountains. It liked how it could be outside after dark, outside of the fort’s walls. It liked how the moonlight hugged its metal and made it a pretty silver. All that made it happy, it loved to explore. But it didn’t love exploring more than it loved protecting its creators. The creators—humans, they called themselves—had made it with one reason: protect them and other non-threats. It was very simple. Clementine liked simple things, like the night air. It liked being outside, it didn’t fit good inside creator-shaped places, it was too big and heavy. Metal was heavier than the soft stuff the creators were made of and less easily hurt. That was why the golem protected the creators: it was strong and obedient and loved them. They treated Clementine good and that made it happy.

The gentle giant twisted to its side at the sound of rustling leaves. It was just down the river from the fort and could still see distant light from torches. It could see better in the dark than its creators, it knew because it never needed those torches. The sight comforted the golem, it had lived there all its life and would protect the fort forever. It was its home. And if undead were this close to its home, it wanted everybody in it to be safe.

With lumbering steps that shook the ground and flattened the grass, Clementine approached the bush that had rustled. It reached out with its long arms, ready to grab a rotten zombie or pokey skeleton. It liked the throwing part that came next, that was the best part. The thought made its metal body wriggle in excitement. It loved protecting its creators from the monsters.

A gray bunny hopped out of the bush, quickly looked sideways at the golem, then raced away. Clementine sagged, its fingers brushing the grass. When it moved too quickly, things ran. Tiny animals scared so easily, but it never wanted to hurt them. It wished it could make them understand. Maybe if it found the bunny, it could say sorry and try to be friends.

It peeked around the bush and through the trees. No bunny. No undead either. It walked along the river’s edge, kicking little stones. It wanted to call for the bunny but didn’t know how to make sounds like the creators did to each other.

Clementine continued down the river for a while, watching for undead and more bunnies. It was getting close to the perimeter of the land it had to watch. The creators always used big words like “perimeter” and when they told them to Clementine, they made it feel smart. It knew a perimeter was the edge of where it was supposed to go. It liked to walk and explore but would be obedient. It was a good golem.

Something caught its eye as it started to turn to go back to the fort. It stopped and turned back around, looking closer. In the distance, there were some blue lights. They were sky-colored, water-colored. One light on the ground was the color of the sun, the other on the ground was the color of a clear sky during the day.

Three of the blue lights were moving around the other two still ones. They looked a little bit like fireflies but were the wrong color. It was weird, and Clementine was curious. It never saw many new things.

The golem approached the lights, still following the river. The cool air came down from where the lights were and smelled different. It smelled less like pine trees and more like sweat, blood, and fear. Bad smells. They made Clementine nervous, but it kept walking. It had left its perimeter behind.

Soon enough, it could hear voices. The blobs of light had become patterns on gray figures. Clementine had never seen anything like them before. They had glowing horns on their heads and were all gray except for the glowing patterns. Their shapes were like its creators but taller, though not taller than the golem. If they were related to its creators in some way, it would help them. It would bring them to the creators, back to the fort, back home. They weren’t safe outside at night where there could be undead.

Clementine approached them and the three that were standing backed up. It raised its hands, trying to show that it didn’t want to hurt them. But they still stank of fear, blood, and sweat. Its whole being ached in sympathy, it wanted to help so bad.

It looked at the ones laying down. This wasn’t a safe place to sleep, they had to wake up. It could see that both of them were hurt. The yellow one looked like he had been hurt a lot a long time ago, he was very skinny, and his left side was all scarred and he had heavy-looking metal bands on his ankles. They didn’t look good. There was a black sword stuck to his back, just like the one that another member of the group held. It partially covered some cuts that were bleeding. The blue one on the ground was a girl, and she was bleeding a bit, too. They both looked so tired, they had to have been to stop right here. The other three looked tired, too, and one was hurt. It made the golem sad. They were hurting and it had to help.

Clementine reached for the yellow one but stopped when one of the three standing blue ones yelled. It didn’t like the yelling but had to help. Slowly, it reached for the yellow one again. The one that had yelled ran over and tried to push the golem’s arm, yelling some more. The other two looked afraid. The golem nudged him away and gently lifted the yellow one—he was so light! He was like a rag doll, though Clementine wasn’t very sure what a rag doll was. Something floppy, that was all it knew. He was easy to hold in one arm, snuggled safely to the golem’s steel chest, breathing softly.

The three on the ground seemed a bit less scared, that made the golem happy. Clementine wanted their trust, they needed to trust it so they could follow it to safety.

It bent down again and picked the blue one up out of the grass, nestling her against its chest with its other arm. The three standing ones didn’t fight or act scared this time. The other one with the sword even put it away on his back, which the golem liked. It gave them its best version of an encouraging smile before heading off in the direction of the fort. The three blue ones followed the golem, their scent of fear gone. They seemed relieved, as they should be. Clementine would take them home where they would be safe and sound, safe from all the monsters of the night that lurked under the shadow of Mt. Velgrin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! A new update at (almost) record speeds, and it's double the length of the last chapter! Also, by popular demand, all books in this trilogy will now have trigger/content warnings at the top of any chapters that contain graphic/sensitive content, which, in short, will be either violence/gore or mental illness-related things. Just thought I'd give you all a heads-up, thanks for being an incredible audience as always!
> 
> As far as the animation for chapter 16 goes, it's nearly done. Just gotta add some finishing touches...
> 
> Also, I'm making an unofficial comic adaptation of a canon scene from Songs of War! It'll begin to release at the beginning of the new year, you can check it out on my DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/fir3droplet/art/True-Colors-Cover-864480250
> 
> Thanks for reading! I love hearing your comments and chatting, don't be shy :)


	18. The Enemy of My Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/Content Warning: references to torture, suicidal ideation

He was caught. Achillean knew it before he had even cracked open a dull golden eye. He laid on something so soft and pleasantly warm that couldn’t have been less like the abrasive bricks he was used to. That in itself was cause for concern. When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t even sure of what he was seeing initially. He was on a cot in a rather long and narrow room, alongside other occupied cots adjacent to his, each spaced at regular intervals. On each lay a Sendaris, the four who had supposedly escaped with him, all breathing evenly in their sleep or unconsciousness. If only he were as calm.

He knew he wasn’t safe. Yes, the air was fresher, the light was brighter, there were no bars in sight, and the oppressive heat had disappeared. But he knew better than to be lulled into a false sense of security. This place would only herald some new form of punishment, of torture. Or perhaps they would stick with the old, it always had worked. Nonetheless, they were trying to catch him unawares, but he held no illusions of safety. How could the group have escaped? The Nestoris had tried many times before and it had only earned him disappointment and pain.

He would pay dearly for this. Of the prisoners he had seen in the past, the ones who resisted the most always were killed first. He had resisted much in the past, yes, but now… the golden Ardoni had not only tried to run. He had fought back. He had left the Nether, stolen a weapon, and slain a ghast and its rider. He’d seen others thrown to the fire-spitting beasts for far less. His whole body still throbbed and stung like one large wound, weakened from the injuries on his back and sore from exertion. A tremor and faint whimper escaped him at the thought. These mild pains would be welcome in comparison to what awaited him. The worst of it was that had he remained in his cell, he would have been ignored. Instead, he’d openly defied his captors as if offering them an invitation to inflict more suffering upon him.

His breaths became ragged, gasping pants and he balled his fists up in the sheets around his emaciated body. It was as if the air were growing thinner. In, out. In, out. In out in out inoutinout—

It was only a matter of time; they would come for him. Achillean clutched his left shoulder in a viselike grip, feeling the knotted scars that seemed to twist and constrict his skin. It had been a long time since his last… branding, but that meant nothing. They would not hesitate to do it again.

A faint whiff of smoke found its way to him, as did the ruddy glow of what could only have been fire. Would the Deathsinger be there? Would he watch from the shadows, just out of sight as Achillean was pinned to the half-molten ground? Or would he be the one to hold him there, never quite meeting his gaze? The magma would hiss and melt new furrows in his skin, marking him forevermore as a creature of the Nether, as its property. And always, always on his left side.

The Nestoris would scream and scream like a dying animal because the pain was too much, death would have been a mercy, anything to end the agony born of fire.

He wasn’t safe. He wasn’t and never would be safe. The Deathsinger would torture him. Ingressus would not kill him. And still, Achillean could not speak, couldn’t tell him of how he was a traitor, a liar, a murderer. He could only scream.

His cries grew louder until he couldn’t hear them, ears ringing and the taste of blood in his throat. Strong hands grabbed him, wrestled with him as he instinctively resisted. They were trying to restrain him, shouting and twisting his limbs. The shackles around his ankles chafed and his back screamed with him, wrapped tightly with fresh pain.

He knew what was coming and wouldn’t be able to stand it. Not this time. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—

He could only scream.

Achillean would be tortured, then paraded around the fortress’s halls as a chained and hobbled trophy. He would be beaten, ridiculed, spat upon. Then... he would be thrown to the ghasts. He could see it unfolding in his mind as if it were happening in the present, at this very moment. The hands and arms restraining him would take him to be punished. After they had broken him—and they _would_ break him—they would kill him. He would die an excruciating, public death, and could only hope it would be quick.

But hope had no place in a cage like this.

Voices were shouting even more loudly at him, jostling him, shaking him, trapping his arms and legs to the ground as he thrashed. Resisting now would get him nowhere, but he could not help it. The Nestoris had been a fool for believing escape was possible. No, not merely foolish, but insane. It was madness that curdled his blood, that flowed inside of him like a toxin and burned itself into his mind, his every thought. There was no other explanation for it. Some bout of hopeful yet hopeless insanity, the delusion that he would be able to escape.

The rational side of him knew better. The Nether always had control. The Deathsinger held all the power. Ingressus was gone. There was no changing that. It made him scream louder, trying to expel the cries from his lungs because they meant torture, those screams always came with pain and never anything else. If he screamed enough, he might destroy his voice once and for all, never have to hear that wretched sound again. He had lost the ability to speak long ago but was still able to vocalize distress. He could make animal, beastlike sounds. Shrieks like the ghasts, grunts like the pigs. Yet the screams went on, he couldn’t control them. The Nestoris wanted them to stop, but they wouldn’t stop, they were full of anguish and agony and terror and rage and crushing hopelessness and he screamed more because he wanted them to stop and there was blood in his throat and he was being pulled across the floor and the bricks were hot but the magma would be hotter it would press into him and he would scream more and beg for the end but he couldn’t speak and the smoke was choking him—

Pain exploded in the back of his skull, sending his vision away. When it came back, he was moving—but not of his own accord—being dragged across the floor by his arms. His mouth tasted of blood and he spat, but it only dribbled over his chin. The Ardoni’s eyes burned, but with what, he didn’t know. The lacerations on his back stung as if he’d strained them beneath the bandages. Bandages? Yes, he was wearing some, mostly around his torso. Why bandage a prisoner when they were to be… to be…

It didn’t matter. He blinked and bit his lip, licked blood off his teeth, and tried to spit again. Still, he was jostled as he was dragged along, the shackles around his ankles clanking loudly against the hard floor. His captors’ actions made no sense, but he was too tired to puzzle over them. The back of his head throbbed and he couldn’t recall why. He didn’t care to, what was one more injury when the end was near?

The remaining fight fled from him as if he’d been possessed, leaving only a husk behind. He couldn’t resist any longer; they had broken him. He would never be safe or have his escape. His world had been burned into him, the world of the Nether. He had been made into a creature of the inferno, a denizen of the land of fire and brimstone and other hellish beasts. He even screamed like them.

At some point, his captors stopped in front of a barred door and one of them stepped forward to open it. Here was his destiny. In the face of it all, the former Tidesinger gave in and laughed. There was still blood in his mouth and throat, the disgusting, metallic taste of life that would come to an end soon enough. He laughed at them all, laughed until he choked and gasped and was dragged over the threshold and dropped to the floor of the cell. His tears splattered the cold stone ground that was somehow blisteringly hot, hot because he’d never really left. He had not escaped. As if to prove his point, the door slammed shut behind him, locking as he laughed and sobbed and heaved for air, the sounds of footsteps and voices fading away. But they would return, _he_ would return, and then Achillean would have his escape.

After a crescendo of pain, all the torment and suffering and agony would end and he would be finally, _finally_ free.

* * *

Her return to consciousness was a drop into ice water. Ria shot upright and gasped, a cold sweat covering her skin, heart hammering. Her whole body ached, all the injuries clamoring for attention, though not as insistently as before. Before? She didn’t know where she was now, but before this place, there was—

Fire. Rage. Sendaria. Her father’s death—his murder. Pain in her skull, then waking in a cell in the Nether. Blistering heat. The other Sendaris. Achillean. The Voltaris. Pain. The Deathsinger. The guards. Death. Revenge. Pain. Running. Fire. The white beasts. The broken bridge. Sweat in her eyes. Her Song. Hope. Fear. Rage. Pain. Death. Achillean’s attack. Running. The beasts’ cries. The portal. Fire. Pain.

Freedom.

It was as if a massive force had hit her, slammed into her hard enough to hurl her body from the ground and into the air, among the clouds. She felt lighter than air. They had escaped.

“Ria? How are you?” Tauris’s face dipped into view.

“Better,” she croaked and slid her legs off the edge of the cot. The slash on her forearm and cut down her chin and neck from the Voltaris’s sword were hidden by white linens, a greasy ointment applied to her many bruises, particularly her jaw and ribs. Her broken nose felt the same, if not more swollen. She supposed there was little that could be done about it. The Sendaris girl flexed her hands, feeling sore yet refreshed, even though hunger and thirst were not far behind.

With a start, she remembered her manners and looked back to Tauris. “And you?”

He raised his eyebrows dryly. “I’ve gained a new collection of scratches and bruises, everything is sore... but I think I will survive.”

With a wry huff, Ria nodded and shifted her focus to her surroundings. The room stretched long and narrow, furnished only with cots spaced evenly apart and redstone lamps embedded at regular intervals into the smooth ceiling. The entire room was cut from stone and had a clinical feel to it, one of hard edges and precise corners. Were it not for the warm light flooding through the paned window at the far end, the room would have been cold and unfeeling. But Ria didn’t care, it wasn’t the Nether. Any place in the Overworld would be better than that hell, she was sure of it. 

She noticed that Keion, Netirius, and Achillean were absent. Ria didn’t want to think about Aldebaran and Ares, how she couldn’t save them. How she couldn’t save her father and countless others who had lost their lives in Sendaria. Senn and Thalleous could have been among them and she may never know.

Ria dug her nails into her arms. No. She wouldn’t dwell on any of that right now. She couldn’t let the world crash down upon her shoulders. The Sendaris girl sucked in heavy breath and looked to Tauris. He leaned against the wall beside the door as if waiting for something, gazing out the window, cobalt markings rippling softly.

“Where are we? Where are the others?”

He uncrossed his arms and straightened his spine, rubbing at it. “Ah… Netirius and Keion are settling matters with the humans…” he trailed off at her confused expression. Tauris cleared his throat, “We were found by one of their curious golems not but a mile outside this fort’s walls. You were unconscious at the time, as was Achillean, but we were taken here and our injuries attended to. They mean us no harm.” A smile broke through his face but was dimmed by grief, he seemed to draw into himself. “I… did not wish to join the others, diplomacy is not my strong suit. I can only think of my brother, he—” a small, strangled sound escaped his throat and he looked away.

Ria’s heart weighed heavily in her chest, the blood in her veins oozing like thick syrup. Her father. Possibly Senn and Thalleous. They had all lost family so suddenly, it was as if it had happened to other people, far away in another time. She felt distanced from herself as if it were all a nightmare that she would one day wake from. It was as if the harsh reality could melt away like a bad dream, as if she could pretend it wasn’t real. That she hadn’t watched her father die at the hands of Voltaris, that she had been able to save Aldebaran and Ares and they would walk into the room at any moment, greeting her and Tauris.

No footsteps came, and Tauris turned away. His entire body was taut with tension like a string pulled until it was ready to snap, but he maintained his composure with an impressive feat of will.

A new thought struck Ria, a welcome release from the grief that had begun to swell like a black ocean around her. “Where is Achillean? Is he not with the others?”

The other Sendaris looked back at her, his eyes glittering with thankfulness. Clearly, he had been wrapped in the same grim thoughts and welcomed the reprieve. “He woke up and made such a racket that it roused the rest of us, except you.” He shook his head slowly, “I envy that. It was as if he was tearing his own vocal cords to shreds, assuming they were whole in the first place. A pair of guards came in and restrained him, clubbed him over the head at one point and he quieted after that.” Tauris’s tone was apathetic, but Ria felt indignation rising within her. “They took him away to a different room and refuse to tell us where, only that he is unharmed. He’s ‘currently isolated to prevent causing harm to himself or others.’” He huffed. “Keion and Netirius are speaking with one of their superiors in hopes to prove he isn’t a threat, but…” the Sendaris trailed off. “I saw with my own eyes how he was fighting back. I wouldn’t place trust in someone like that.”

Ria bit back a hiss of pain as she stood, her turquoise eyes flashing. “He has undoubtedly endured hardship the likes of which you and I can only imagine. If not for him, we wouldn’t have escaped the Nether. I want to see him, he doesn’t deserve to be thrown in a cage again like an animal.”

“I am on your side,” Tauris assured, then added darkly, “but that’s just it: you did not see him. His mind is not whole… tread with caution.”

She did not know how to reply to that. After a long moment, he waved her forward, “Come, there’s no sense in remaining here. The others are also negotiating supplies, we intend to leave this place as early as possible.”

Ria blinked, pushing hair out of her eyes. “Why? Aren’t we safe here?”

“Supposedly,” the darker-hued Sendaris said, “but that is not what worries me. The Voltaris clan and Nether are working together at a feverish pace, and the Deathsinger himself lives. We three are already in agreement that we shall travel to the clan masters as quickly as possible, I cannot think of a more urgent matter in need of their attention.”

She took up stride with him and together, they followed the hall. “Can the humans not send a messenger bird ahead of us?”

“If only. Unfortunately, I’ve heard that their forces have become involved in a skirmish south of Mt. Velgrin and all the birds are preoccupied or getting shot out of the sky.”

Ria frowned. “Let’s hurry, then.”

They continued to walk in silence until the sounds of voices met their ears and Ria’s strength was flagging. She needed to eat and drink something, but pushed her discomfort down and pressed on. As if sensing this, Tauris slowed his pace to a more leisurely amble as the voices grew in volume. She could identify Netirius’s and Keion’s, but the others were unfamiliar.

She and Tauris joined them, and after the end of their discussion with the rather important-looking humans, matters seemed to pan out. Their leader—a bearded man with an authoritative yet kindly demeanor—was charitable, seeming to take pity on the Ardoni without belittling them. After they had explained their situation, he promised supplies for their journey, given the group’s dire circumstances. It was more than they had dared hope for.

Yet Ria’s thoughts still went to Achillean, to how he wasn’t with the rest of them. He had freed the group from the Nether, had led them to the portal and slain a ghast and its rider, buying them enough time to make a run for it. And he’d been rewarded with incarceration… it was no wonder he had shattered.

The Sendaris wanted to free him, but even if he were released, she didn’t know how to begin to pick up the pieces. But she would have to worry about that later. At that moment, she had stood before the fort’s leader, a man with tanned skin, dark eyes, and an even darker beard sprinkled with gray hairs and asked for Achillean’s release. It was the least she could do.

He studied her for a time. “Did he give you those bruises?”

“No!” Ria was appalled. “He is the reason I don’t have more.”

Still, the humans were reluctant, grumbling that he nearly injured the guards who had taken him to his new “room,” that the only thing keeping him from lashing out was an iron golem. None of the humans were willing to approach the Ardoni themselves, even though the Sendaris had assured them he meant no harm.

Their leader looked ready to dismiss her, but Ria wouldn’t let it slide so easily. On an impulse, she’d promised to stay with the Nestoris at all times to ensure that he wouldn’t try anything, claiming that he trusted her. She only hoped that was the truth, and prayed that her uncertainty didn’t show in her eyes.

He considered the girl’s words, her firm tone. “If we later find that you were lying, you both will be put in that cell.” He leaned forward sincerely, “I do not mean it personally, we wish to aid you… but necessary precautions must be upheld.”

Ria nodded, trying to quell her unease as a guard passed her a key. It was a tarnished brassy color, dull and lifeless. She tucked it into her inventory with a word of thanks and a respectful bow, the other Sendaris behind her mirroring her movements.

The next few hours passed by in a flurry of activity. The Sendaris were given food—which they quickly devoured—and they were told that Achillean had been given a meal as well. The two black-bladed swords from the Nether were returned to them and the group was provided with packs stuffed to the seams with rations and various supplies they might find useful: a compass, tightly packed bedrolls, unlit torches, extra bandages and balms to soothe their scratches, leather canteens for holding water. It was almost too overwhelming, the group of blue Ardoni felt the need to express their gratitude again and again.

After a time, Ria found herself standing outside the room—no, _cell_ that housed Achillean’s shivering, gaunt frame. They were alone save for an iron golem that kept looking between the two of them, its metallic eyes bright with curiosity and unmistakable cheer that did little to lighten the depressive mood coming off the Nestoris in waves. His eyes were vacant yet almost gleeful in some twisted way, fixed on a single scar in the left wall a good distance from where he lay curled on the floor, unmoving. The four Sendaris had been told where he was located, but Ria was the only one who came. The others were still weary from the ordeals of yesterday and all the preparations today for their departure, all of them were feeling rather overwhelmed. Regardless, the group wanted to make the most of their short respite, for they would leave for the Ardoni masters at dawn. Ria couldn’t blame them.

She watched the golem poke at the bars, at how it chose to run its massive steel fingers down their lengths when it could just as easily have torn them from their sockets. The creature was draped in vines and even a few flowers, moving with a grace she wouldn’t have thought possible for such a large being, and large it was. Even seated as it was, it towered over her. Fortunately, the hallway in the fort’s dungeon was rather large, nearly as large as some of the others on the main levels. Down here, the air was cold and dank, she could faintly make out the sound of dripping water from an unknown source as it met the stone bricks. It was a lonely place.

The Sendaris sighed and approached the bars, bearing the key. With visible trepidation, she fitted it inside the lock of the barred door and twisted. The door sprang open, yet Achillean did not move from his spot on the floor.

The golem rumbled sadly and tapped at the bars, its metal fingertips pinging.

Uncertain of what to expect, Ria entered the cell and went to the other Ardoni’s side, trying to stay within his view. His eyes did not follow her movements, but his entire body tensed when she stretched and touched his shoulder.

“Achillean?” Ria kept her voice soft, not wishing to startle him. His golden eyes met her azure ones, empty. She pulled away, never moving her gaze. “It’s over. Please, come out.”

Something shifted in those dull orbs, confusion, distrust, perhaps. Emotions flickered through them like embers turning to flames, disbelief, longing, fear, sorrow, pain, wistfulness. And maybe, _maybe_ , like a pearl hidden within an oyster that was visible only through a narrow slit, there was something that looked like hope.

But he blinked and it was gone, sealed off or erased.

Ria pulled in a breath. She had known this wouldn’t be easy and would not give up on him. He’d saved them, saved her, the least she could do was return the favor. But it would have been easier, she imagined, if he left this cell. The door hung open invitingly, the golem pushing it back and forth on its whining hinges in a small effort to amuse itself.

The Sendaris slid her new bag off her back and drew out two items, careful not to damage either. At the rustling of paper, Achillean had turned his head back around as Ria leaned closer. She offered a small, leather-bound notebook and charcoal pencil to him. She’d specifically requested them from the humans for this very purpose, and could only wait with bated breath. If he truly trusted her, he would take them.

As if in a daze, he stared at the items, then glanced up at her, at the open door, then back again. The Nestoris pushed himself up as if a heavy weight clung to his shoulders and plucked the pencil from the stone floor, then the notebook, turning them both over in his hands. He opened the book as if its pages were made of glass and set it flat, putting the pencil to the paper and beginning to write. Although shaky, Ria could see that his words were written in a small, curved script that seemed delicate and old-fashioned.

He scratched out line after line of words, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as Ria waited. Then finally, he tore out the page he had all but blacked out and slid it towards her, eyes sparkling with tears. There was one sentence that had not been crossed out.

_**Is it true? My mind lies to me … I do not know what to believe.** _

The Sendaris looked up from the page and, on an impulse, snatched the pencil from the cold floor. She flipped the paper over onto its backside, a clean slate, a fresh start. She scrawled three words and passed it back to him. Achillean’s eyes darted back and forth over and over again, his hands beginning to shake until he couldn’t possibly have made the single sentence out. A pure smile brought life back to his face as he stood and clutched the paper to his chest, and Ria could faintly make out what she’d written.

_**We are free.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Originally I had Ria's and Achillean's handwriting in their own nice cursive fonts, but that doesn't transfer here to AO3, sadly.
> 
> Also, I finished that animation for chapter 16! Took a really long time… ha… ha… worth it  
> You can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MI-bNmHDqmc
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!


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